THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


. 


AA<7,/1 


LIST  OF  SEEIES. 


I.    HIDDEN  WINGS,  AND   OTHER  STORIES. 
II.    SOTTING  THE  WIND,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

III.  SUNSHINE  AT  HOME,  AND   OTHER  STORIES. 

IV.  THE  PEACEMAKER,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

V.    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 
VI.    AFTER  A  SHADOW,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE, 


AND 


OTHER  STORIES. 


Repentance. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE, 


OTHER    STORIES. 


BY    T.    S.    ARTHUR. 


NEW  YORK: 

SHELDON  &  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS, 
498  &  500  BROADWAY. 

1869. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1868, 
BY  SHELDON  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


Stereotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
19  Spring  Lane. 


?5 


CONTENTS. 


*  PACT 

NOT  ANYTHING  FOB  PEACE.     ......        9 


II. 

WISHING  AND  DOING 124 

III. 
KILLING  AN  ENEMY.          .......    134 

IV. 

THE  BARGAINS.         . 146 

V. 

LITTLE  MARY ••».     171 

VI. 

DISCORDANT  STRINGS.       .......    175 

(7) 


622695 


8  CONTENTS. 

VII. 

PAGB 

PHARISEE  AND  PUBLICAN.         ......     182 

VIII. 

THE  Two  VASES .    193 

IX. 
IN  TROUBLE .»...    214 

X. 

IN  THE  LAST  TIME.          •        •       •        .  •  ,    228 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE, 

AND  OTHER  STOEIES. 


I. 

NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

Two  men,  named  Archibald  Wing  and  Thomas 
Ellis,  owning  property  that  was  divided  by  a 
small  stream  having  a  good  fall,  joined  equally 
in  the  expense  of  building  a  dam  in  order  to 
secure  a  water  power  for  milling  purposes. 
Wing,  who  was  a  Scotchman,  and  originally 
a  weaver,  built  a  small  woollen-factory,  while 
Ellis  erected  a  flouriug-mill. 

Almost  from  the  outset  of  this  arrangement 
the  parties  disagreed.  *'  Wing  was  a  far-sighted, 
selfish,  and  unscrupulous  person,  who  looked 
simply  to  his  own  advantage,  while  Ellis  had 
regard  to  what  was  just  between  man  and  man. 

(9) 


10         NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

The  site  on  one  bank  of  the  stream  was  supe 
rior  to  that  on  the  other,  the  advantage  being 
in  favor  of  the  Scotchman.  Comprehending 
this,  he  offered  to  sell  his  neighbor  as  much 
ground  as  would  be  required  for  locating  his 
mill  a  few  hundred  yards  below  the  point 
selected  for  his  own.  Ellis  was  about  ac 
cepting  this  proposition,  when  a  mutual  friend 
warned  him  against  an  arrangement  which  might 
lead  to  trouble. 

"Build  on  your  own  side,"  said  the  friend, 
"  even  though  some  disadvantages  are  involved. 
In  any  disagreement  with  Wing,  don't  you  see 
that  he  will  have  it  in  his  power  to  annoy 
and  injure  you  by  stopping  the  supply  of 
water?" 

"He  cannot  stop  my  mill  without  stopping 
his  own,"  answered  Mr.  Ellis.  "  So  you  see  I 
have  a  guarantee  in  that  consideration." 

"Don't  trust  to  any  such  guarantee.  There 
are  men  of  so  revengeful  a  spirit  that  they  will 
not  hesitate  at  wronging  even  themselves  so  that 
injury  may  fall  upon  another.  I  don't  charge 
such  a  spirit  on  Mr.  Wing ;  but  you  know,  as 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.          H 

well  as  I  do,  that  he  has  some  strange  peculiari 
ties  of  character,  and  is  inclined  to  disagree 
ments  with  his  neighbors.  He  is  self-willed, 
and  much  disposed  to  have  things  his  own 
way." 

"I  don't  see  how  trouble  can  arise  between 
us,"  replied  Ellis.  "The  water,  as  it  comes 
from  his  wheel,  will  enter  my  fore-bay.  The 
matter  is  very  simple." 

"  May  I  suggest  a  way  in  which  trouble  can 
arise  ?  " 

"O,  certainly.  Forewarned,  forearmed,  as 
the  proverb  says." 

"His  works  will  be  lighter  than  yours." 

"Yes." 

"And,  therefore,  require  less  water." 

"Yes." 

"  The  ordinary  quantity  flowing  from  his  tail- 
race  will  not  give  you  sufficient  head  for  more 
than  a  single  pair  of  mill-stones." 

"I  am  sure  you  err  in  that." 

"  Will  it  be  amply  sufficient  for  two  pairs  ?  " 
asked  the  neighbor. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  was  answered. 


12         NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"What  then?" 

"He  must  keep  his  waste-gate  open,  of 
course." 

"But  will  he,  friend  Ellis?" 

"Do  you  question  it?"  was  asked,  in  manifest 
surprise. 

"  Will  it  be  wise  for  you  to  place  yourself  so 
much  in  the  power  of  any  man?  I  say,  no  ;  and 
if  you  are  not  fully  committed  in  the  plan  of 
building  on  Wing's  side  of  the  falls,  take  my 
advice,  and  build  on  your  own.  Draw  your 
supply  of  water  through  your  own  race,  direct 
from  the  dam,  and  then  you  will  be  indepen 
dent." 

On  reflection,  Mr.  Ellis  resolved  to  heed  this 
advice,  and,  immediately  calling  on  his  neigh 
bor,  notified  him  that  he  would  build  on  his  own 
ground. 

"  But  you  have  agreed  to  buy  the  site  on  my 
ground,"  answered  Wing,  manifesting  consider 
able  disturbance. 

"The  bargain  was  not  closed,"  Ellis  replied, 
speaking  firmly.  "We  talked  it  over,  and  I 
own  that,  on  first  considering  your  proposal, 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  13 

I  favored  it.  Since  turning  it  over  in  my  mind, 
however,  I  have  concluded  to  build  on  my  own 
side,  and  take  water  direct  from  the  dam." 

"But,  don't  you  see,"  urged  Mr.  Wing,  "that 
in  this  event  we  shall,  during  the  summer  time, 
have  a  short  supply  of  water,  and  neither  of  us 
be  able  to  run  over  half  the  time?  while,  if  we 
use  the  same  water,  you  receiving  it  after  me, 
as  proposed,  the  head  will  be  sufficient  in  the 
dryest  season." 

"I  don't  apprehend  trouble  from  that  source," 
ansAvered  Mr.  Ellis ;  "  and  if  I  can  get  water 
enough  for  my  purposes,  you  will  have  more 
than  enough.  In  any  event,  the  loss  will  be 
mine,  for  your  machinery  will  go  whirring  like 
a  top  under  a  head  of  water  scarcely  sufficient 
to  set  a  single  pair  of  mill-stones  in  motion." 

Wing  soon  saw  that  his  neighbor  was  in 
earnest,  and  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  press 
him  further  on  the  subject.  So  the  matter 
dropped  between  them,  and  both  joined  in  con 
structing  the  dam.  But,  all  the  while  it  was 
building,  Wing  silently  pondered  the  means  of 
securing  an  advantage  over  Mr.  Ellis.  The 


14         NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

fact  that  the  flouring-mill  would  take  more 
water  than  he  could  use  in  his  small  establish 
ment,  worried  his  mind  whenever  the  thought 
was  presented.  It  seemed  as  if  Mr.  Ellis  were 
getting  an  advantage  over  him,  and  that  was 
something  he  never  could  submit  to  passively. 
If  there  was  to  be  any  advantage,  in  his  dealing 
with  other  men,  it  must  be  on  his  side. 

In  a  matter  so  intimately  touching  the  rights 
of  both  parties  as  the  joint  ownership  and  re 
spective  obligations  connected  with  the  mill-dam, 
it  was  deemed  safest  to  have  a  paper  drawn  up 
by  a  skilful  lawyer,  defining  their  relative  duties 
and  interests.  Ellis  was  not  very  particular 
about  the  form,  accepting  the  general  scope 
of  the  document  in  its  first  draft;  but  Wing 
scanned  every  sentence  with  care,  and  weighed 
the  meaning  of  each  important  word  with  sus 
picious  accuracy.  A  dozen  alterations  were 
made  before  he  would  consent  to  sign  the 
paper. 

Almost  simultaneously  with  the  beginning  of 
work  on  the  dam,  were  operations  commenced 
by  the  two  men  at  their  respective  mill  sites; 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  15 

and  these  went  on  vigorously,  until  the  walls  of 
each  building  began  to  rise  above  the  well-laid 
foundations. 

About  this  time,  certain  movements  on  the 
spot  which  was  at  first  selected  by  Mr.  Ellis, 
.on  his  neighbor's  side  of  the  stream,  attracted 
his  attention.  Men  were  engaged  in  clearing 
it  up,  digging,  and  hauling  away  cart-loads  of 
earth.  A  suspicion  flashed  into  the  mind  of 
Mr.  Ellis ;  but  he  pushed  it  aside  as  unworthy. 
Still  the  digging  went  on,  and,  in  a  day  or  two, 
he  saw  stone  begin  to  arrive.  This  was  con 
clusive  as  to  the  purpose  of  his  neighbor  to 
erect  a  building  of  some  kind.  So  Mr.  Ellis 
went  over,  and  asked  a  few  questions  in  a 
friendly  way,  to  which  he  received  cold  and 
unsatisfactory  replies. 

The  only  thing  really  learned  was,  that  Mr. 
"Wing  had  rented  the  ground  to  a  man  living  in 
the  next  village,  a  Mr.  Adam  Wheeler,  who  was 
going  to  put  up  some  kind  of  works ;  what,  Mr. 
Wing  averred,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared. 

"  Is  he  to  have  water  power  ?  "  was  the  natu 
ral  inquiry  of  Mr.  Ellis. 


16          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

To  this  query  he  got  only  the  same  don't- 
know  and  don't-care  reply. 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Ellis,  iu  respectful  remon 
strance,  "it  is  of  concern  for  me  to  know 
whether  there  are  to  be  two  mills  to  take 
water  from  the  dam  on  your  side,  or  only 
one." 

With  this,  Wing  fired  up,  and  became  rather 
abusive,  at  the  same  time  claiming  the  right  to 
take  at  least  as  much  water  as  his  neighbor, 
which  could  not  be  as  things  stood  in  their 
original  aspect.  Mr.  Ellis  was  a  peace-loving 
man,  and  retired  from  this  contest,  resolved  to 
let  things  take  their  course  rather  than  get  into 
a  quarrel  with  his  neighbor.  "I  shall  manage 
to  get  water  enough,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  so 
went  on  with  the  work  of  construction. 

But  a  friend  who  saw  what  was  in  progress 
across  the  falls  brought  the  subject  back  again 
to  the  consideration  of  Mr.  Ellis,  and  enjoined 
him,  by  all  means,  to  have  the  matter  definitely 
settled  before  advancing  a  single  step  farther. 
Together  the  contract  was  examined,  and  the 
friend  pointed  out  and  dwelt  upon  a  clause,  that, 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  17 

interpreted  in,  the  spirit  of  the  whole  agreement, 
would  prevent  Wing  from  using  water  except 
for  the  woollen-mill  he  was  engaged  in  erecting. 
Other  clauses,  which  Wing  had  introduced  into 
the  agreement,  were  of  rather  vague  significa 
tion,  and  might  be  urged,  in  a  lawsuit,  against 
the  evident  reading  of  the  document.  Mr.  Ellis 

\I3 

saw  this,  and  remarked,  in  a  rather  discouraged 
voice,  — 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  been  tricked.  My  neighbor 
has  been  too  sharp  for  me." 

"  So  much  the  more  necessity  for  stopping 
where  you  are,"  said  the  friend.  "The  dam 
cannot  be  completed  without  your  consent,  as 
one  side  rests  on  your  property." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  answered  Ellis.  "  In 
this  contract,  I  assented  to  the  erection,  and 
could  be  held  to  my  agreement.  The  work 
cannot  be  stopped  now." 

"It  would  be  stopped,  if  I  were  in  your 
place,"  returned  the  friend.  "Not  another 
stone  or  timber  should  be  laid  until  the  ques 
tion  now  involved  was  finally  adjusted." 

"I  don't  want  to  get  into  a  quarrel  with 
2 


18    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

Wing;  and  a  quarrel  I  am  sure  to  have  if  I 
cross  him  now.  Let  the  matter  pass,  and  come 
out  as  it  will.  Anything  for  peace.  I  shall  get 
all  the  water  required  for  my  mill,  no  doubt. 
Except  for  two  or  three  months  in  the  year,  no 
short  supply  need  be  apprehended." 

"There  is  only  one  way  to  peace,"  said  the 
friend ;  "  and  that  is  the  way  of  mutual  rights. 
If  you  permit  a  single  aggression  from  a  bad 
man,  you  only  encourage  him  to  further  wrongs. 
Success,  to  the  evil,  is  like  the  taste  of  blood  on 
a  tiger's  lips.  Make  a  stand  now,  while  you 
occupy  some  vantage  ground." 

"  And  get  into  a  lawsuit  ?  " 

"Perhaps  yea,  perhaps  nay.  But  if  the  law 
suit  is  to  come,  accept  it  on  the  threshold,  and 
settle  the  dispute  before  all  you  have  is  invested 
in  these  improvements  which  may  be  rendered 
valueless  by  some  unlooked-for  move  of  your 
neighbor  across  the  falls." 

But  Mr.  Ellis  had  not  sufficient  courage  to 
accept  the  issue.  "Anything  for  peace,"  he 
kept  saying  to  himself;  "anything  for  peace ;" 
and  went  on  with  his  mill  and  the  dam. 


NOT    ANYTHING     FOE    PEACE.         19 

No  very  long  time  passed  before  word  came 
to  Mr.  Ellis  that  Adam  Wheeler,  the  person  to 
whom  Wing  had  rented  the  site,  was  going  to 
put  up  a  grist-mill.  This  he  did  not  credit  at 
first;  for  he  could  not  believe  so  ill  a  thing  of 
his  neighbor.  But  it  was  repeated  to  him 
again  and  again,  and  by  such  good  authority 
that  he  felt  bound  to  look  carefully  into  the 
matter.  So  he  went  to  the  other  side  for  per 
sonal  investigation.  Since  the  remonstrance 
at  first  entered,  there  had  been  coldness  be 
tween  him  and  Mr.  Wing,  and  they  had,  in 
mutual  repulsion,  stood  aloof  from  each  other. 

On  visiting  the  site  to  which  we  have  re 
ferred,  he  found  Mr.  Wheeler  on  the  ground. 
Questions  in  regard  to  the  improvements  he 
saw  progressing  were  not  needed.  His  prac 
tised  eyes  read,  at  a  glance,  the  purpose  of 
everything. 

"You  are  putting  up  a  flouring-mill,  I  see," 
was  his  remark  to  Wheeler. 

"I  am,"  was  the  steady  reply. 

Mr.  Ellis  looked  at  the  man  sharply  for  some 
moments,  and  then  put  the  question,  — 


20          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"Are  you  not  'advised  that  the  building  of 
such  a  mill  is  in  violation  of  my  contract  with 
Mr.  Wing?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  your  arrange 
ments  with  Mr.  Wing,"  curtly  answered  Wheeler. 
"  Mine  with  him  are  clear  enough.  I  have  paid 
for  water  privileges,  and  shall  use  them.  If  you 
have  anything  to  object,  lay  the  case  before 
Wing." 

The  blood  of  Mr.  Ellis  was  sitrred.  He  felt 
angry  and  combative. 

"  I'll  see  about  this  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  strid 
ing  away  from  the  place,  and  going  in  search  of 
Mr.  Wing.  He  was  resolved  to  take  issue  at 
onse,  and,  as  his  friend  had  advised  him,  settle 
this  matter  with  the  Scotchman,  even  at  the  ex- 
pence  of  a  lawsuit. 

But  it  so  happened  that  Wing  was  absent; 
and  before  Ellis  reached  his  own  side  of  the 
falls,  his  hot  blood  lost  its  ardor,  and  moved 
more  slowly  along  his  veins. 

"  Anything  for  peace,"  dropping  from  his  lips, 
as  he  entered  his  own  premises,  told  the  story 
of  his  state  of  mind. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  21 

On  the  next  day,  in  cooler  blood,  he  met  the 
Scotchman,  who  put  on  a  repellent  countenance. 

"  I  was  over  to  see  you,  yesterday,"  said  Mr. 
Ellis. 

"  Ah  !  I  was  not  aware  of  it."  Wing's  aspect 
grew  more  forbidding.  He  did  know  of  the 
visit,  and  of  what  had  passed  between  his 
neighbor  and  Mr.  Wheeler. 

"  I  called  to  ascertain  if  something  I  had  heard 
was  really  true." 

"What  did  you  hear?" 

"  That  Wheeler  was  building  a  flouring-mill." 

"  And  did  you  satisfy  yourself?  "  Wing's  tone 
and  manner  were  offensive. 

« I  did." 

"  He  is  building  a  flouring-mill  ?  " 

"  Yes,  under  a  right  accepted  from  you ;  but  a 
right  which  our  contract  does  not,  as  you  are 
aware,  authorize." 

"  As  /  am  aware  ?  "  There  was  affected  sur 
prise,  as  well  as  indignation,  in  the  voice  of 
Wing. 

"Certainly,  as  you  are  aware,"  coolly  an 
swered  Mr.  Ellis.  "In  the  joint  building  of  this 


22    NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE. 

dam,  only  a  single  mill  on  either  side  was  con 
templated.  Your  use  of  it  was  to  be  limited  to 
a  woollen-mill,  and  mine  to  a  fioiiring-rnill." 

"Is  that  set  down,  in  so  many  words,  in  the 
contract  ?  "  asked  Wing,  almost  with  a  sneer. 

"  If  not  in  so  many  words,  the  spirit  is  there ; 
and  your,  course  now  is  in  direct  violation  of 
that  spirit." 

"  Go  home  and  read  your  contract  again,"  said 
Wing,  in  a  very  offensive  manner,  and  turned 
away,  haughtily,  from  his  neighbor. 

Ellis  did  read  it  again,  over  and  over,  half  a 
dozen  times,  and,  at  each  new  reading,  saw  the 
stipulations  less  and  less  clearly.  As  first  drawn, 
the  contract  was  a  very  plain  one,  expressing 
the  rights  of  each  in  a  few  explicit  words ;  but, 
under  the  changes  and  interpolations  suggested 
by  the  wily  Scotchman,  he  could  not  understand 
it  as  binding  to  any  specific  thing,  in  fair  read 
able  language.  After  worrying  himself  over  the 
matter  for  a  day  or  two,  Mr.  Ellis,  who,  in  his 
very  soul,  detested  strife,  receded  from  the  reso 
lute  position  which,  under  the  excitement  of 
natural  indignation  he  had  assumed,  and,  justify- 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  £3 

ing  his  weak,  non-combatant  inclinations  by  the 
oft-repeated  sentiment,  "Anything  for  peace," 
let  the  issue  pass,  and  went  on  with  the  work  of 
building  his  mill. 

A  few  weeks  more  were  permitted  to  elapse 
without  any  movement  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Ellis 
towards  a  settlement  of  this  serious  difference 
of  opinion  between  him  and  Mr.  Wing,  touching 
their  mutual  rights  and  privileges  under  the 
contract  for  building  the  dam.  The  original 
understanding  between  them  was  plain  enough, 
and  he  had  considered  the  written  agreement  as 
a  simple  record  of  that  understanding.  To  have 
deviated  in  anything  from  its  true  meaning  he 
would  have  regarded  as  seeking  a  dishonorable 
advantage.  The  conduct  of  his  neighbor,  there 
fore,  outraged  his  sense  of  justice  quite  as  much 
as  it  alarmed  his  fears.  It  was  plain  that  wrong 
was  intended ;  but  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  resist  the  wrong,  and  so  get  into  a 
quarrel. 

Mr.  Ellis  was  standing  by  the  nearly  finished 
abutment  against  which,  the  dam  and  head-gates 
on  his  side  of  the  stream  were  to  rest,  examining 


24          NOT    ANYTHING    POK    PEACE. 

the  work,  when  the  friend  who  had  before 
warned  him  against  his  neighbor  on  the  other 
side  came  up,  and  said,  — 

"  How  have  you  settled  that  difference  with 
Wing?  I  see  that  Wheeler  is  still  going  on 
with  the  flouring-mill." 

"It  isn't  settled  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Ellis. 
"The  fact  is,  Wing  and  I  have  not  met  since  we 
conversed  on  the  subject." 

The  friend  shook  his  head,  saying,  — 

"Wrong,  all  wrong,  Mr.  Ellis.  You're  mak 
ing  trouble  for  the  future.  Stop  where  you  are. 
Don't  lay  another  stone  or  another  timber  until 
this  thing  is  settled." 

"We  have  gone  too  far  to  stop  now,"  said 
Ellis,  "particularly  so,  as  a  quarrel  and  lawsuit 
will  be  certain  to  follow ;  and  for  both  of  these 
I  have  an  instinctive  horror.  I've  thought  about 
the  matter  a  great  deal,  and,  in  a  choice  of  evils, 
I  think  the  preference  lies  on  the  side  I  am 
taking." 

The  friend  looked  upon  the  ground  where  they 
were  standing,  and,  pointing  with  his  finger, 
said,  — 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    25 


"  Do  you  see  that  immense  burdock  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Ellis. 

"It  was  once  no  larger  than  this  diminutive 
weed  which  I  pull  up  with  two  fingers."  The 
friend  stooped,  and  drew  easily  from  the 
ground  a  small  plant  less  than  four  inches 
high.  "Now,"  he  added,  "try  with  all  your 
strength,  and  you  cannot  displace  the  other. 
Nay,  its  strongly  embedded  roots  would  resist 
our  united  force.  Only  by  pickaxe  or  spade 
can  it  be  destroyed.  Just  so  will  it  be  with 
this  unsettled  dispute.  Take  it  now,  and  the 
wrong  may  easily  be  eradicated ;  but  let  the 
wrong  go  on  strengthening  and  increasing,  and 
you  will  find  it  an  enemy  almost  impossible  to 
destroy." 

Mr.  Ellis  looked  sober.  He  saw  the  force  of 
his  friend's  illustration.  Still  he  shrank  from 
the  issue  presented.  His  soul  abhorred  strife. 

"I  would  do  almost  anything  for  peace,"  he 
said,  despondingly. 

"  We  cannot  always  have  peace  on  easy  terms. 
Too  often  it  can  be  secured  only  at  the  price  of 
war;  and  it  is  better  to  accept  of  war  when 


26    NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE. 

our  enemy  is  weak,  and  we  have  the  best  posi 
tion,  than  to  wait  until  the  situations  are  re 
versed.  One  thing  is  certain  —  and  the  sooner 
you  make  up  your  mind  to  accept  and  act  upon 
the  necessity  the  better  —  you  cannot  escape  a 
war." 

"  It  is  a  cruel  necessity  —  a  wicked  necessity," 
said  Mr.  Ellis,  much  disturbed. 

"  I  grant  you  that  it  is.  But  there  being  no 
escape,  act  with  courage  and  promptness.  Be 
a  strong,  brave  man,  intrenching  yourself  be 
hind  a  just  cause,  asking  nothing  but  right,  and 
yielding  to  no  encroachments  from  wrong." 

"  What  would  you  advise  ?  What  step  should 
I  take?"  asked  Mr.  Ellis,  in  a  half-undeteruii- 
nate  manner. 

"  Stop  this  work  at  once,  and  refuse  to  ad 
vance  an  inch  until  the  spirit  of  your  original 
contract  is  observed  on  the  other  side.  The 
dam  cannot  be  finished  without  your  consent. 
Wing  and  Wheeler  may  go  on  with  their  mills 
if  they  please,  but  if  the  dam  remains  incom 
plete,  their  works  are  useless." 

"  I  have  already  expended  two  thousand  dol- 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.          27 

lars,"  said  Mr.  Ellis.  "  Must  that  all  remain  a 
dead  loss  ?  I  can't  afford  it !  My  future  pros- 
)erity  depends  on  the  completion  of  this  mill." 
Your  future  prosperity,  say  rather,  depends 
on  the  present  settlement  of  this  disagreement 
with  Wing,"  returned  the  other. 

"  What  great  harm  can  he  do  me,  after  all?" 
urged  Mr.  Ellis.  "Isn't  the  dispute  one  about 
imaginary  rights  and  privileges  more  than  about 
real  ones?  I  shall  get  all  the  water  I  want 
from  my  side  of  the  dam.  Suppose  Wing  and 
Wheeler  do  use  a  larger  quantity?  What  of 
that,  so  I  get  enough?" 

"  A  great  deal  of  that,  if  it  is  used  in  a  deter 
mined  violation  of  a  contract  between  the  par 
ties ;  for  then,  a  wrong  to  justice  is  done,  and 
an  evil-doer  is  encouraged  to  trespass  on  his 
neighbor." 

"  But  suppose  I  am  willing  to  accept  the  tres 
pass,  in  order  to  avoid  a  quarrel?  What  then?" 

"Two  evils  will  follow.  The  wrong-doer, 
thus  encouraged  to  wrong  by  the  benefit  re 
ceived, —  as  the  robber  is  encouraged  on  receipt 
of  plunder,  —  will  not  hesitate  at  additional 


28          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

wrong  in  your  case,  nor  fail  to  regard  success  as 
a  motive  for  trespass  on  others.  As  a  brave, 
true  man,  Mr.  Ellis,  your  duty  is  plain.  Secu 
rity  to  yourself,  and  loyalty  to  justice,  demand 
all  the  sacrifice  of  feeling  this  contest  with 
Wing  may  require.  Let  him  comprehend,  so 
clearly  that  he  will  never  fall  into  the  mistake 
again,  that  you  mean  right  towards  others,  and 
will  exact  right  towards  yourself.  Suspend  all 
your  operations  at  once,  and  give  him  notice  iu 
writing  that  you  will  neither  lay  a  stone  nor  strike 
a  hammer  until  his  arrangement  with  Wheeler, 
in  violation  of  the  original  compact,  be  set  aside." 

"  That  he'll  never  do  !  "  replied  Mr.  Ellis.  "  I 
might  as  well  give  up  for  good  and  all  —  aban 
doning  everything." 

"A  great  deal  better  abandon  everything  in 
its  present  condition,  than  advance  a  step,  if 
such  is  the  man  you  have  to  deal  with,"  said  the 
friend ;  "  for,  rely  upon  it,  ho  will  not  let  one 
over  whom  an  advantage  is  so  easily  gained 
pass  free  from  injury  in  tho  future.  He  will 
prey  on  you  all  the  while." 

"  How  that  is  possible,  is  beyond  my  ability 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.          29 

to  see,"  was  answered ;  "  and  I've  studied  the 
case  pretty  thoroughly." 

"As  you  will,"  returned  the  friend,  whose 
ardor  now  began  to  cool.  "But,  my  word' for 
it,  if  you  don't  settle  this  affair  now,  you'll  only 
repent  it  once  in  your  life,  and  that  will  be  a 
perpetual  repentance." 

After  this  conversation,  Mr.  Ellis  passed  a 
good  many  days  of  sober  thought.  Reason  ad 
monished  him  that  his  friend  was  right;  but 
the  old  cry  arose  in  his  spirit,  "Anything  for 
peace ! "  and  he  shrank  from  the  impending 
strife.  He  was  the  more  ready  to  shrink  after 
a  brief  interview  with  the  Scotchman,  for  he 
found  him  sternly  resolved  to  advance  in  the 
way  he  was  going.  An  intimation  by  Mr.  Ellis 
that  he  might  suspend  operations  entirely  on  his 
side  of  the  dam  if  Wing  did  not  recede  from 
his  position  was  met  by  such  violence  of  lan 
guage,  and  in  such  a  fierce  and  threatening 
spirit,  that  the  peace-loving  man  was  really 
frightened.  He  saw  that  in  any  contention 
which  might  arise  he  would  have  a  desperate 
and  vindictive  antagonist  —  one  who  would  not 


30         NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

scruple  at  any  means  of  annoyance  and  injury; 
and  he  was  not  brave  enough  to  throw  down  the 
gauntlet,  and  enter  the  arena  of  battle. 

In  a  conversation  which  passed  between  Wing 
and  Wheeler,  immediately  subsequent  to  this 
stormy  interview,  the  Scotchman  said,  cool- 

iy>- 

"  I  know  my  man.  You  can  frighten  him  as 
easily  as  you  can  frighten  a  hare." 

"O,  bluffs  the  game  with  men  of  his  kid 
ney  ! "  answered  Wheeler,  coarsely. 

"I  said,  when  he  broke  that  agreement  about 
the  mill  site,  he'd  repent  of  it  before  long," 
remarked  Wing,  in  a  tone  of  evil  triumph, 
"  and  I'm  always  as  good  as  my  word.  He 
.shall  repent.  When  a  man  once  breaks  with 
me,  we  are  two  forever;  and  if  he  gets  ahead 
of  me  after  that,  why,  he's  welcome  to  all  the 
advantage." 

"  But  suppose  he  were  to  do  as  he  threatens  — 
suspend  work  on  his  side  of  the  dam  ?  "  Wheel 
er  looked  serious  as  he  asked  the  question. 

Wing  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  an 
swered,  — 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          31 

"No  fear  of  that." 

"It  would  block  our  game,"  said  Wheeler. 

"  Yes ;  without  the  dam  our  mills  would  be 
worthless.  But  you  may  set  your  heart  at  rest 
on  that  score.  Ellis  will  go  on  with  the  work. 
He's  terribly  afraid  of  law ;  and  the  moment  he 
withdraws  his  men,  I  will  have  him  served  with 
a  writ  to  answer  for  a  violation  of  the  con 
tract." 

"  In  case  he  stands  a  suit,  the  chances  are  all 
in  his  favor,"  remarked  Wheeler. 

"Perhaps  they  are;  but  law  is  uncertain. 
Besides,  I  have  a  -lawyer  who  knows  all  the  ins 
and  outs,  all  the  quirks  and  turns  of  the  court 
room  ;  a  man  who  can  bully  and  brag  on  the 
outside,  as  well  as  work  silently  and  in  the  dark. 
I'll  trust  my  case  with  him,  on  a  good  contingent 
fee." 

"And  lose  it,"  said  Wheeler.  "Take  my 
advice,  and  don't  get  your  case  in  the  hands 
of  a  jury ;  for  twelve  fair  men  will  say  that 
Ellis  is  right,  and  you  are  wrong." 

"  Twelve  fair  men  might  do  so  ;  but  did  you 
ever  hear  of  twelve  clear-headed,  honest,  fair- 


32          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

dealing  men  being  on  a  jury  at  the  same  time? 
Even  on  a  jury  trial  I  might  win.  Still,  I 
have  no  idea  of  letting  the  case  go  into  court. 
Should  Ellis  get  balky  and  unmanageable,  I'll 
submit  to  an  arbitration.  If  this  is  kept  off 
until  we  get  our  mills  well  advanced,  the  vague 
ness  of  the  contract,  and  the  largeness  of  the 
interests  involved  on  our  side,  will  naturally 
lead  the  arbitrators  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
clearly  understood  the  existence  of  a  right  to 
put  up  two  mills  on  my  property.  It  will  be 
argued  on  my  side  that  no  possible  harm  can 
inure  to  Ellis  by  a  use  of  the  water,  as  power, 
that  flows  from  my  wheel." 

"And  argued  on  his,"  returned  Wheeler, 
"that  in  building  a  flooring-mill  on  this  side, 
his  business  must  suffer  loss." 

"Yes,  that  ground  will  undoubtedly  be  taken, 
and  with  a  strong  show  of  reason.  But  I  have 
faith  in  being  able  to  keep  beyond  the  law's  in 
terference.  Ellis  is  a  timid,  peace-loving  man, 
and  I  shall  give  him  a  threatening  or  stormy 
side  whenever  we  meet,  just  as  his  mood  may 
happen  to  require.  One  thing  is  certain,  I  am 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  33 

not  going  to  back  clown  unless  under  constrai  c 
of  law.  When  I  once  take  a  course,  nothinsr 

7  O 

but  an  impassable  barrier  can  stop  me.  And  I 
have,  in  this  thing,  taken  my  course." 

Thus  the  matter  stood  on  Archibald  Wind's 

O 

side.  He  knew  that  he  was  in  the  wrong  and 
an  aggressor,  but  meant  to  hold  his  position 
by  all  available  means,  fair  or  foul.  For  a  man 
like  Ellis,  he  was  a  hard  antagonist;  yet  this 
made  resistance  to  wrong,  at  the  very  outset, 
the  more  imperative.  In  all  such  cases,  the  first 
conflict  of  forces  is  best;  for  then  it  almost 
always  happens  that  right  is  a  nearer  match  for 
wrong  than  at  any  time  afterwards,  and  able  to 
conquer  at  the  lightest  cost. 

Steadily,  day  by  day,  the  works  on  each  side 
of  the  stream  went  on,  and  the  builders,  stimu 
lated  by  Wing,  carried  on  the  dam  rapidly 
towards  completion.  Ellis  was  troubled  with 
many  forebodings  of  evil.  He  felt  that  he  was 
in  the  hands  of  two  unscrupulous  men,  who  not 
only  had  the  power,  but  the  will,  to  do  him 
wrong;  and  yet  he  did  not  possess  the  cour 
age  to  accept  at  once  the  struggle  which  was 
3 


34  NOT    ANYTHING    FOE  PEACE. 

coming,  and  conquer  a  peace  ere  heavier  inter 
ests  were  involved  and  larger  disasters  inevita 
ble.  "Anything  for  peace!"  was  still  his  cry, 
when  the  question  of  resistance  forced  itself 
upon  his  consideration. 

At  last  the  dam  was  completed,  and  the  mills 
cm  both  sides  ready  to  go  into  operation.  By 
this  time  the  feeling  of  antagonism  between  Mr. 
Ellis  and  the  Scotchman  had  become  so  strong 
that  they  held  no  intercourse.  If  they  happened 
to  meet,  they  simply  recognised  each  other  with 
a  distant  nod.  For  months  Mr.  Ellis  had  re 
frained  from  going  over  to  his  neighbor's  side 
of  the  falls,  and  knew  nothing,  by  personal 
inspection,  of  the  interior  arrangement  and 
capacity  of  "Wheeler's  merchant  and  grist  mill. 
But  kind  and  officious  friends  kept  him  posted. 
One  of  these  came  to  him  soon  after  the  dam 
and  Humes  were  completed,  and  said,  — 

"I  heard  something  3resterday  that  I  think 
you  should  know." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Ellis. 

"It  came  from  one  of  Wing's  millwrights." 

"Ah!     Well,  what  is  it?" 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  35 

"It  must  be  taken,  of  course,  with  some 
grains  of  allowance ;  but  I  shouldn't  at  all 
wonder  if  it  were  true.  Wing  is  just  the  man 
for  such  a  trick." 

"  What  trick  ?  Speak  out  plainly  !  "  urged 
Mr.  Ellis. 

"  He  says  that  Wing's  head-gates  are  at  least 
fourteen  inches  lower  than  yours." 

"No  —  no!  He  wouldn't  dare  to  do  such  a 
thing ! "  said  Mr.  Ellis,  at  once  excited. 

"As  to  his  daring,"  replied  the  friend,  "he 
will  dare  anything  to  secure  an  advantage.  If 
it  is  true,  —  and  you'd  better  see  to  it  at  once,  — 
it  will  enable  him  to  reduce  your  head  of  water 
in  dry  seasons  just  that  number  of  inches,  to 
your  injury  and  his  gain." 

"I  will  see  to  it,  and  that  immediately,"  was 
the  resolve  of  Mr.  Ellis,  who  was  considerably 
excited  by  this  grave  intimation.  But  the  ques 
tion  as  to  the  means  of  ascertaining  whether  the 
thing  alleged  were  true  or  not  caused  a  long 
and  unsatisfactory  debate.  Wing  would,  of 
course,  meet  the  accusation  with  an  indignant 
denial.  Only  by  a  survey,  skilfully  conducted, 


36    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

was  the  exact  level  of  the  two  openings  for  head- 
gates  to  be  determined ;  and  as  this  would 
involve  an  open  rupture  between  the  high  con 
tending  parties,  the  mind  of  Ellis  again  fell  into 
doubt,  and  became  embarrassed  by  hesitation. 
Seriously  did  he  regret  his  failure  to  meet  the 
difficulty  at  an  earlier  period,  and  have  it  pressed 
to  a  settlement  when  the  decision  could  have 
been  met  and  accepted  with  but  slight  injury  on 
either  side.  Now,  as  nearly  everything  he  had 
in  the  world  was  invested  in  his  mill  improve 
ment,  he  was  anxious  to  get  to  work,  and  realize 
some  of  the  advantages  for  which  he  had  been 
waiting,  spending,  and  laboring.  To  enter,  at 
this  point,  on  a  quarrel,  with  its  excitements, 
delays,  and  unknown  consequences,  was  an 
alternative  which  he  could  not  accept.  And 
so,  trusting  that  all  would  come  out  right,  Mr. 
Ellis  left  his  neighbor  to  the  enjoyment  of  any 
advantage  he  might  hold,  and  turned  his  whole 
attention  to  his  mill. 

Ellis's  mill  contained  three  pairs  of  mill-stones. 
One  of  these  pairs  was  designed  for  the  grinding 
of  grists ;  the  other  for  the  manufacture  of  flour, 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    37 

to  be  sent  to  market  and  sold  as  merchandise. 
It  was  in  the  calculation  of  Mr.  Ellis  to  keep  two 
pairs  of  mill-stones  running  for  about  two  thirds 
of  the  year  in  the  manufacture  of  flour  for  sale, 
and  a  single  pair  running  for  the  same  pur 
pose  during  one  third  of  the  year,  or  while  the 
springs  were  low  in  summer  time.  The  stones' 
for  grinding  grist  were  to  be  at  all  times  ready 
for  use. 

Two  things  gave  Mr.  Ellis  concern.  He 
feared  lest,  in  consequence  of  his  neighbor's 
shameless  violation  of  their  agreement,  he  might 
have  a  short  supply  of  water  during  half  the 
year,  instead  of  one  third ;  and  he  also  feared 
so  serious  a  diversion  of  business  from  his  grist- 
grinding  department,  in  favor  of  Wheeler's  mill, 
as  to  materially  impair  the  income  he  had  rea 
sonably  calculated  on  receiving. 

Mr.  Ellis  started  his  mill  early  in  the  month 
of  April,  some  weeks  before  either  Wing  or 
Wheeler  were  ready.  He  had  plenty  of  water, 
and  all  things  worked  to  a  charm.  Farmers 
brought  their  grain  to  sell  or  to  be  ground  for 
their  own  use,  and  the  great  mill-wheel  kept 


38          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

ever  in  motion,  from  dawn  until  the  shadows 
fell. 

By  the  first  of  May  Wheeler's  mill  was  ready, 
and  then  a  change  was  apparent.  One  morning 
the  water  fell  sensibly  in  Ellis's  fore-bay  or  flume, 
and  there  followed,  in  consequence,  a  diminished 
power  in  all  of  his  machinery. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  was  the  very  natural 
query  of  his  miller,  whose  practised  ear  recog 
nized  the  feebler  motion  of  his  wheels ;  and  he 
went  to  look  at  the  head  of  water.  Ellis  fol 
lowed  him. 

"  The  water  has  fallen  at  least  nine  inches," 
said  the  miller,  as  he  glanced  down  into  the 
fore-bay. 

"  There  must  be  a  leak  in  the  dam,"  replied 
Ellis,  looking  away  to  where  the  newly-com 
pleted  barrier  stretched  from  shore  to  shore. 

"Yonder  is  the  leak  !  "  and  the  miller  pointed 
lower  down  the  stream.  The  great  water-wheel 
of  the  new  mill  was  in  motion,  glistening  in  the 
sunbeams. 

The  face  of  Mr.  Ellis  grew  clouded.  His 
heart  sank  with  a  feeling  of  dismay,  for  he  com- 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          39 

prcheuded  clearly  the  evil  which  had  befallen 
him. 

"I  was  afraid  of  this."  He  tried  to  speak 
calmly,  but  his  voice  was  disturbed. 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  said  the  miller,  "  they  have 
done  what  the  millwright  affirmed  —  set  their 
head-gates  lower  than  ours." 

"It  must  be  so."  Ellis  stood  like  one  half 
stupefied. 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  See  !  the  water  is  still  fall 
ing.  I  shall  have  to  stop  one  pair  of  stones." 
Only  two  pairs  were  running. 

And  the  miller  went  in  to  change  the  gearing, 
so  as  to  detach  a  pair  of  the  mill-stones.  This 
being  done,  the  water-wheel  regained  its  usual 
velocity.  For  a  long  time  Mr.  Ellis  stood  in 
deep  thought,  or  walked  up  and  down  the  floor 
of  his  mill,  without  speaking  further  to  any  one; 
then,  calling  a  lad,  he  said,  — 

"  Frank,  I  want  you  to  go  over  to  the  other 
side,  and  do  an  errand  for  me." 

The  boy  was  all  attention. 

"  Does  Mr.  Wheeler  know  that  you  are  work 
ing  for  me  ?  " 


40    NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE. 

Frank  answered  in  the  negative. 

"  I  wish  to  find  out  how  many  pairs  of  burrs 
he  is  now  running.  Cross  over  at  Jackson's 
foot-bridge,  down  the  stream,  and  come  up  on 
the  other  side.  Look  in  at  the  mill,  and  see 
what  you  can  see,  then  come  back  and  report; 
but  don't  open  your  lips  on  the  subject  of  your 
errand  to  a  living  soul." 

The  lad  went  off  with  a  bound.  In  half  an 
hour  he  returned,  reporting  that  Wheeler  •"  had 
on  three  pairs  of  burrs."  At  this  time  the  head 
of  water  was  so  low  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Ellis 
that  only  a  single  pair  could  be  set  in  vigorous 
motion. 

"  Anything  for  peace  "  would  not  answer  now. 
This  issue  must  be  met,  and  if  Wing  and  Wheeler 
did  not  yield  to  right  and  justice,  war  was  in 
evitable.  So,  by  the  hand  of  a  messenger,  word 
was  sent  across  the  river,  giving  information  as 
to  the  effect  of  starting  Wheeler's  mill  on  the 
head  of  water,  and  assuming  that  Wing  had 
made  his  opening  into  the  dam  at  a  lower  level 
than  Ellis,  and  in  plain  violation  of  the  contract. 
To  this  an  insulting  answer  was  returned,  which 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          41 

iroused  all  the  latent  fire  in  Ellis's  bosom.  He 
saw  now  that  nothing  was  left  for  him  but  to 
accept  a  heavy  loss,  or  to  meet  wrong  in  a  stern 
conflict.  For  a  little  while  he  cast  about  for  a 
way  of  peaceful  escape,  but  none  offering,  he 
braced  himself  for  a  contest,  resolved  to  battle 
for  his  rights  to  the  end.  Such  men,  when  the 
inevitable  strife  is  begun,  are  rarely  conquered. 
The  justice  of  their  cause  gives  confidence,  and  a 
sense  of  outrage  nerves  them  with  endurance  and 
vigor.  No  half-way  measures,  no  patched-up 
compromises,  will  suit  them.  The  battle  must 
be  fought  until  right  is  •  fully  triumphant. 

A  second  messenger  was  despatched,  and  warn 
ing  given,  that  unless  a  survey  of  the  dam  were 
at  once  made,  by  consent  of  both  parties,  so  as 
to  get  the  actual  level  of  the  two  head-gates,  he 
would  apply  for  an  injunction  to  restrain  both 
Wheeler  and  Wing  from  taking  any  water  from 
the  dam  until  a  survey  was  ordered  by  the 
court.  To  this,  answer  was  returned  in  these 
words  :  — 

"  Tell  Ellis  to  go  ahead ;  two  can  play  at  the 
game  of  injunction  as  well  as  one." 


42  NOT    ANYTHING    FOB    PEACE. 

Before  the  lapse 'of  three  weeks,  injunction* 
had  issued  against  both  parties,  and  the  water 
about  which  they  were  in  dispute  went  foaming 
over  the  dam,  while  the  mill-wheels  basked  idly 
in  the  sun.  The  farmers  brought  their  grain 
from  far  and  near,  but  could  neither  sell  it  nor 
get  it  ground. 

The  lawyer  whom  Ellis  had  engaged  made 
every  effort  to  procure  an  immediate  order  for  a 
survey  of  the  dam ;  but  the  counsel  on  the  other 
side  interposed  difficulties  and  technical  objec 
tions  in  order  to  make  delays.  So  the  mills  stood 
idle  week  after  week,  and  the  angry  owners 
chafed  in  spirit  against  each  other,  meditating 
punishment  or  revenge. 

After  two  months'  loss  of  time,  and  conse 
quent  injury  to  both  parties,  a  survey  was 
ordered.  To  the  astonishment  of  Mr.  Ellis,  it 
was  declared  in  the  surveyor's  report  that  the 
head-gates  ou  each  side  of  the  dam  were  on  ex 
actly  the  same  level.  The  injunctions  wTere,  in 
consequence,  dismissed. 

An  unjust  legal  decision,  operating  to  a  man's 
serious  injury,  is  very  apt  to  stir  any  bad  blood 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          43 

that  may  happen  to  be  in  his  heart.  The  sense 
of  outrage  is  increased  by  a  sense  of  weakness. 
While  submission  to  the  decree  is  felt  as  a  stern 
necessity,  the  mind  casts  about  for  some  means 
of  gaining  power  over  the  adversary  at  whose 
instance  the  wrong  has  been  suffered.  Ellis  was 
in  this  state,  but  with  no  clearly-seen  method  of 
reaction  upon  his  neighbor  across  the  falls,  when 
a  legal  notice  was  served  requiring  him  to  an 
swer  for  damages  sustained  by  both  Wheeler 
and  Wing  in  consequence  of  the  injunction  which 
he  had  caused  to  be  served.  Hurrying  to  his 
lawyer,  he  laid  the  summons  before  that  per 
sonage. 

The  lawyer  looked  serious,  remarking,  "  I  was 
afraid  of  this." 

"  He  can't  get  damages  !  "  Alarm  was  on  the 
countenance  of  Mr.  Ellis. 

"  You  did  not  sustain  the  allegation  on  which 
the  injunction  was  based." 

"It  is  true,  nevertheless  !  "  Mr.  Ellis  was  ex 
cited  and  indignant. 

"  We  do  not  doubt  that.  Still  the  surveyor's 
report  was  against  us." 


44    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  think  about  that  ?  "  said 
Ellis. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?  " 

"  The  surveyor  was  feed  by  Wing.  A  hundred 
dollars  would  buy  him,  body  and  soul." 

"Be  careful  when  and  where  you  say  this," 
suggested  the  prudent  lawyer. 

"  I  will  declare  it  on  the  house-top  ! "  asserted 
Mr.  Ellis. 

"  Don't.  It  may  bring  you  into  trouble  with 
the  surveyor." 

"How?" 

"  In  a  suit  for  slander." 

"  That  for  a  slander  suit !  "  and  Ellis  snapped 
his  thumb  and  finger  sharply. 

"  One  trouble  at  a  time.  Let  us  defend  the 
case  with  Wing  and  Wheeler,  before  we  get 
involved  with  Justin,  the  surveyor,"  said  the 
lawyer. 

"  But  you  don't  really  apprehend  danger  from 
this  move  on  the  enemy's  side  ?  " 

"As  remarked  just  now,  you  did  not  show 
cause  for  an  injunction.  Security,  as  you  are 
aware,  was  required  to  cover  unjust  damages  to 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    45 

Wing,  should  they  occur.  As  the  court  recog 
nizes  no  adequate  cause  for  the  injunction,  hav 
ing  dissolved  it,  an  award  of  damages  will  most 
probably  lie  against  you.  I  see  only  one  way  in 
which  you  may  be  saved." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  A  counter-suit  for  damages  against  Wing,  as 
enjoiner  in  your  case,  may  lead  him  to  abandon 
the  action  now  instituted." 

"  Then  order  the  suit  at  once,"  said  Ellis. 
"Two  can  play  at  this  game  also." 

And  it  was  done.  The  mills  went  on  grind 
ing  and  spinning,  and  the  suits  went  on  also, 
taking  more  thought  than  the  mills,  and  wasting 
as  much  money  as  the  mills  earned. 

"Ah,  if  this  had  been  settled  in  the  begin 
ning,"  sighed  Ellis,  almost  daily,  amid  the 
anxiety  that  weighed  upon  his  spirits,  "  what  a 
world  of  trouble  would  have  been  saved !  I 
wanted  peace  ;  I  would  have  given  anything  for 
peace ;  and  my  love  of  peace  has  betrayed  me 
into  a  labyrinth  of  evil,  from  which  a  safe  extri 
cation  is  now  impossible." 

In  the  midst  of  all  this,  Ellis  could  run,  as  the 


46          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

dry  season  had  commenced,  only  a  single  pair 
of  mill-stones,  while  Wing  had  water  enough  for 
his  factory,  and  Wheeler  never  kept  less  than 
two  pairs  of  stones  in  motion.  The  amount  of 
grinding  done  by  Ellis  was  so  small,  that  the 
working  of  his  mill  had  proved  a  loss,  instead  of 
a  gain. 

At  the  next  term  of  court,  both  cases  came  on, 
and  Ellis  lost  them  both.  The  decisions  were 
based  on  the  surveyor's  report,  and  awarded  five 
hundred  dollars  damages  to  Wing  and  Wheeler 
for  loss  of  profit  on  their  two  establishments 
during  the  period  covered  by  the  injunction. 

"Take  an  appeal,"  said  Ellis  to  his  lawyer, 
when  the  decision  against  him  was  made.  "I 
will  fight  them  to  the  death.  In  for  a  penny, 
in  for  a  pound.  They  shall  never  handle  one 
dollar  of  my  money.  I'll  spend  every  farthing 
I  possess  in  law  rather  than  let  it  go  into  their 
hands." 

And  an  appeal  was  taken. 

The  scanty  supply  of  water  which  Mr.  Ellis 
could  get  from  the  dam  was  only  sufficient, 
through  the  months  of  July  and  August,  to 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE.    47 

enable  him  to  run  a  single  pair  of  mill-stones ; 
and  so  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  what  had 
been  looked  to  as  the  most  profitable  part  of 
the  business,  merchant-milling,  as  it  was  called, 
or  the  manufacture  of  flour  for  sale  in  barrels, 
and  limit  himself  to  the  grinding  of  corn,  rye, 
and  wheat  for  the  neighboring  farmers.  It  so 
happened  that  his  mill  was  better  situated  for 
this  kind  of  business  than  Wheeler's,  being  on 
the  side  of  the  stream  on  which  ran  the  public 
road  connecting  with  the  most  thickly  settled 
farming  portions  of  the  country.  The  wagon 
crossing  was  nearly  a  mile  below,  so  that 
Wheeler's  mill  could  not  be  reached  from  that 
side  except  by  a  long  journey  of  two  miles  — 
equal  to  four  miles  going  and  returning. 

It  availed  little  for  Wheeler,  then,  that  he 
sent  handbills  all  through  the  country,  soliciting 
patronage  for  his  mill,  and  offering  to  grind  the 
farmers'  grists  for  a  lighter  toll  than  was  exacted 
by  his  neighbor.  The  four  additional  miles, 
going  and  coming,  that  the  farmers  would  have 
to  drive,  barred  them  from  accepting  his  tempting 
offers ;  and  he  had  to  content  himself  with  the 


48          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

small  custom  that  naturally  fell  to  his  location. 
He  was  not  content  with  this,  however.  Having 
set  out  with  the  "  all-for-myself "  principle  of 
action,  he  could  not  rest  in  the  large  advantage 
already  gained,  unjustly,  over  Mr.  Ellis,  but 
resolved  to  leave  no  means  untried  for  ruining 
him  altogether  for  the  sake  of  benefiting  him 
self. 

An  evil  purpose  stops  at  the  employment  of 
no  means  that  offers  a  successful  result.  Wheeler 
gave  himself  earnestly  to  the  work  of  setting 
aside,  by  some  means,  the  disadvantage  under 
which  he  was  laboring  in  consequence  of  the 
better  location  of  his  neighbor's  mill.  As  he 
lay  pondering  the  subject  one  night,  the  desired 
suggestion  came.  He  did  not  sleep  much  after 
wards,  but  kept  awake*  until  nearly  morning, 
looking  at  the  suggestion  on  all  sides,  and  plan 
ning  for  its  safe  execution. 

Early  on  the  next  day  Wheeler  saddled  his 
horse  and  rode  to  a  neighboring  town.  Stop 
ping  at  a  small  office,  on  the  window  of  which  a 
sign  bore  the  name  of  Paul  Justin,  he  dismounted 
and  entered.  A  short,  stout  man,  with  a  salloAV 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          49 

face,  and  a  head  covered  with  a  mop  of  stiff,  iron- 
gray  hair,  met  him  within  the  door.  They 
joined  hands,  without  so  much  as  saying,  "  Good 
morning,"  and  each  looked  at  the  other  with  a 
penetrating  inquiry.  As  two  conscious  rogues 
might  scan  each  other,  they  stood  face  to  face 
for  several  moments. 

"Well?"  said  Justin,  first  breaking  silence. 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you."  The  tone  in  which 
Wheeler  spoke  showed  that  something  of  more 
than  common  interest  was  on  his  mind. 

"  Sit  down.  I  am  at  your  service."  And  the 
surveyor  pointed  to  a  chair. 

Wheeler  sat  down. 

"  Anything  in  which  I  can  help  you  ?  "  Justin 
was  now  smiling  and  courteous. 

"  The  thing  does  not  concern  me  alone.  It  is 
one  in  which  you  and  hundreds  of  others  are 
interested.  For  a  whole  range  of  three  miles, 
there  is  only  one  road  and  bridge  leading  across 
Cypress  Creek.  The  consequence  is,  that  many 
farmers  have  to  drive  a  long  distance  out  of  their 
way  in  getting  to  a  point  scarcely  half  a  mile  in 
a  direct  line." 
4 


50         NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"And  so  find  it  difficult  to  reach  your  mill, 
ha?  Is  that  it?"  And  Justin  looked  shrewdly 
at  the  miller,  who  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
replied,  — 

"  Of  course,  I  feel  the  want  of  another  road 
and  bridge  equally  with  my  neighbors." 

"  You  are  the  first  one  that  I  have  heard  speak 
of  it,"  remarked  Justin,  seeming  to  relapse  into 
himself,  and  putting  on  a  sober  countenance. 

"O,  dear !  bless  your  soul !  I've  heard  twenty 
rnen  talking  about  it  during  the  past  week. 
Somebody  must  move  first  in  the  matter,  and 
I  promised  several  to  open  the  ball." 

"At  what  point  is  it  designed  to  cross  the 
creek?"  asked  the  surveyor. 

"  I've  discussed  that  with  quite  a  number,  and 
all  seem  to  agree  upon  one  location." 

"Where?" 

"About  an  eighth  of  a  mile  below  our  dam. 
The  hills  come  down  with  a  gentle  grade  just 
at  that  point,  and  a  road  might  be  cut  at  a  very 
small  expense.  The  stream  is  narrow,  with 
close,  high  banks,  and  can  be  easily  bridged. 
All  agree  upon  this." 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  51 

"  Ah,  Wheeler  !  You're  a  shrewd  dog  ! "  said 
Justin,  slapping  his  visitor  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Can't  deceive  me.  I'm  too  old  a  fox.  All 
this  simply  means  grist  to  your  mill." 

"  That's  ungenerous,"  retorted  Wheeler,  try 
ing  to  put  on  an  offended  air ;  but  the  veil  was 
altogether  too  transparent,  as  he  was  himself 
conscious. 

"It  won't  do,  my  boy,"  said  Justin,  laughing 
away  down  in  his  throat  with  an  unmusical 
chuckle.  "  I  understand  it  all ;  so  you  may  as 
well  talk  out  plainly  first  as  last.  You  want 
the  road  and  bridge?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  What  is  good  for  the  public 
is  good  for  me  also." 

"Say,  rather,  that  what  is  good  for  you  is 
good  for  the  public,  and  then  we  shall  have  it 
rightly  expressed." 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  retorted  Wheeler, 
with  a  forced  laugh,  yet  with  repressed  impa 
tience,  like  one  annoyed.  "  So  that  we  can  get 
the  new  road  opened,  we'll  not  chaffer  as  to  who 
will  receive  the  largest  benefit.  Will  you  move 
in  this  thing  ?  " 


52          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  Me  !  "  with  pretended  surprise. 

"Yes,  you." 

"  What  interest  have  I  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"  The  common  interest  of  every  man  in  public 
improvements." 

"For  private  benefit,  ha?  'Twill  not  do, 
friend  Wheeler.  So  get  down  from  your  high 
position,  and  stand  beside  me  here,  on  the 
ground  level.  You  want  this  road  for  your 
own  benefit,  and  want  my  assistance  in  getting 
a  decree  from  the  County  Court.  Talk  it  out, 
and  then  we  shall  understand  each  other." 

"Have  it  so,  then.  Anything  to  get  the 
road,"  said  Wheeler. 

"  What  good  will  I  gain  ?  You  see  we  are  on 
a  level  now.  You  want  the  new  road  and  bridge 
for  grist  to  your  mill.  All  right  —  haven't  a 
word  of  objection  to  urge.  Let  every  man  get 
all  the  advantage  he  can  in  this  world.  That's 
my  way.  Now,  I  don't  care  three  pins  whether 
the  road  is  opened  or  not  —  that  is,  so  far  as  my 
interests  are  concerned.  You  understand.  If, 
then,  I  am  to  move  on  this  track,  just  show  me 
whither  it  leads.  Where  will  I  come  out?" 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          53 

"Property  will  rise  along  the  road." 

"  Not  so  sure  of  that ;  and  besides,  I  don't 
own  a  foot  of  land  in.  the  neighborhood  of  Cy 
press  Creek." 

"  You  can  buy  in  anticipation." 

The  surveyor  shook  his  head. 

"There's  a  tract  of  fifty  acres,  belonging  to 
Tompkins.  He  wants  to  sell  —  told  me  so  yes 
terday.  The  road  and  bridge  will  add  from  tea 
to  twenty  dollars  an  acre  to  its  value.  Now,  if 
I  was  dead  sure  the  court  would  order  the  road 
to  be  opened,  I'd  take  this  land,  and  make  a 
good  thing  of  it." 

Justin  did  not  respond  in  words,  but,  with  a 
look,  invited  the  miller  to  go  on. 

"  You  might  have  an  interest  in  the  purchase," 
said  Wheeler. 

The  surveyor  shook  his  head,  coldly  remark 
ing  that  he  had  no  money  to  invest.  Wheeler 
dropped  his  eyes,  and  pondered  certain  things 
that  were  in  his  mind,  looking  at  them  from  all 
points  of  view. 

"It  won't  do,"  he  said,  speaking  slowly,  "for 
me  to  stand  forward  in  this  matter.  That  Ellis 


54          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

would  be  sure  to  get  up  a  counter  movement,  on 
the  plea  that  I  was  trying  to  injure  him  and  bene 
fit  myself;  and  the  allegation  would  look  plausi 
ble.  But  if  you  took  the  lead,  no  one  would 
dare  charge  an  interested  motive.  Now,  I'll  tell 
you,  at  a  word,  what  I  am  prepared  to  do." 

«  Well.     Say  on." 

The  two  men  were  seated.  Justin  leaned 
back  composedly  in  his  chair,  resting  his  elbows 
on  the  two  arms,  and  bringing  together  his  open 
hands,  with  the  wide-spread  fingers  and  thumbs 
each  against  its  fellow.  He  was  all  attention, 
yet  with  a  well-assumed  air  of  indifference. 

"Do  you  think,  if  the  application  were  man 
aged  rightly,  the  court  would  order  the  improve 
ment?" 

"  If  it  were  managed  rightly,  as  you  intimate, 
yes." 

"  To  the  point ;  and  I  am  free  to  say,  that  if 
you  can't  manage  it,  no  one  in  the  county  need 
try.  So  you  have  my  estimate  of  your  influ 
ence,  Mr.  Justin." 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,"  said  the 
surveyor,  with  a  bow. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          55 

"I'll  make  Tompkins  an  offer  for  his  fifty 
acres  to-morrow." 

The  surveyor  nodded. 

"He'll  take  me  up." 

"Likely." 

"  Ten  acres  shall  be  yours  on  the  day  the  road 
is  ordered  to  be  surveyed." 

"  Your  hand  to  that ;  "  and  Justin  extended  his 
open  palm. 

"  My  hand  to  that ; "  and  the  bargain  was 
ratified. 

"  You  will  have  to  proceed  with  great  caution," 
said  Wheeler.  "  The  moment  Ellis  gets  wind  of 
the  movement,  there'll  be  a  strong  opposition." 

"Of  course.  So  far  as  he  is  concerned,  it 
will  be  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  After  the 
new  road  is  opened,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for 
his  mill  property." 

A  gleam  of  evil  triumph  lighted  up  the  miller's 
face,  as  he  said, — 

"  The  effect  on  him  won't  trouble  me." 

"Ellis  is  not  a  bad  man,"  remarked  Justin, 
with  a  touch  of  sympathy  in  his  voice. 

"No,  he  is  not   a   devil  incarnate;    but  he's 


56         NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

done  his  best  to  injure  me,  and  I'm  bound  to 
pay  him  off  with  double  compound  interest.  If 
there  is  one  man  alive  against  whom  I  owe  a 
deeper  grudge  than  another,  it  is  Tom  Ellis." 

"You've  hurt  him  already  worse  than  he's 
hurt  you." 

"  He  hasn't  hurt  me  at  all  to  speak  of,"  replied 
Wheeler,  with  a  self-satisfied  air.  "I'm  all 
right.  Give  me  the  new  road  and  bridge, 
and  I'll  not  regard  him  as  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  buzzing  of  a  fly  will  annoy  me  more  than 
the  clatter  of  his  mill  wheels." 

"  You  will  certainly  hold  him  at  a  great  disad 
vantage." 

As  Justin  said  this,  he  turned  his  head  with 
a  quick  movement,  and  listened. 

"  Is  there  any  one  in  the  back  office  ? "  whis 
pered  the  miller,  leaning  towards  Mr.  Justin, 
with  a  shade  of  alarm  on  his  face. 

The  two  men  sat  very  still  for  several  sec 
onds.  Then  Justin  got  up  quietly,  and,  step 
ping  to  a  door  that  led  into  a  small  room, 
pushed  it  open. 

"There  is  no  one,"  ho  said,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE.    57 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  with  sobered 
faces. 

"I  was  certain  that  I  heard  a  sound  in  that 
room,"  said  Wheeler. 

"  Sounds  are  often  very  deceptive,"  answered 
the  surveyor.  "It  came  from  the  street,  no 
doubt." 

After  that  the  men  drew  closer  together,  and 
talked  in  a  very  low  tone.  Justin  accepted  the 
miller's  offer  of  ten  acres  in  the  lot  of  ground  to 
be  bought  from  Tompkius,  and  promised  to  set 
himself  to  work  immediately.  And  he  was  as 
good  as  his  word. 

"  How  is  the  new  road  going  to  affect  you  ?  % 
asked  a  farmer,  who  had  come  to  Ellis's  mill. 
This  was  about  three  weeks  subsequent  to  the 
interview  between  Justin  and  Wheeler,  hereto 
fore  mentioned. 

"What  road?"  said  the  miller,  looking  curi 
ously  at  his  questioner. 

"The  new  road  which  is  to  cross  Cypress 
Creek,  just  above  Harvey  Tompkius's." 

«  What  I  "  The  miller's  voice  cut  the  air  like 
a  whiplash. 


58          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"The  new  road  and  bridge  near  Harvey 
Tompkins's." 

"  Who  said  there  was  to  be  a  new  road  ?  "  de 
manded  Ellis,  a  slight  paleness  visible  on  his 
face. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  haven't  heard  of  it !  " 
said  the  farmer,  in  surprise.  "I  signed  the 
petition  several  weeks  ago,  and  am  almost  sure 
that  I  saw  your  name  on  the  paper." 

"  My  name  !  " 

"I  couldn't  be  positive.  But  such  is  my  im 
pression.  I  thought  it  a  little  curious,  seeing 
that  a  new  road  would  be  more  apt  to  feed  your 
neighbor's  mill  than  yours." 

"I've  never  heard  of  such  a  petition,  much 
less  signed  it,"  said  Mr.  Ellis,  sitting  down, 
from  a  sense  of  weakness,  on  a  meal-bag.  He 
felt  that  an  evil  power  which  had  been  steadily 
advancing  upon  him  had  made  another  approach, 
and  that  he  was  growing  weaker  for  resistance 
instead  of  stronger. 

"Who  had  the  petition  when  you  signed  it?" 
asked  the  miller,  after  the  first  confusion  of  his 
thoughts  had  passed. 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    59 

"  It  was  in  the  hands  of  Paul  Justin." 

"  Had  it  many  signatures  ?  " 

"Yes.  Most  of  the  people  in  my  neighbor 
hood  put  down  their  names.  We  think  the 
road  will  be  an  advantage." 

"Has  the  court  made  a  decree  in  the  case?" 

"  Yes.  It  was  given  on  last  Monday ;  and 
the  county  commissioners  have  ordered  a  sur 
vey." 

"  And  I  never  knew  a  word  of  it ! "  said  the 
miller,  now  greatly  disturbed.  "There's  some 
wrong  and  underhand  work  in  this  business." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  Why  should  there 
be  ?  As  far  as  I  saw,  everything  was  open  and 
above-board,"  remarked  the  farmer,  innocently. 
"It's  not  an  unusual  thing  to  make  a  new 
road." 

Ellis  made  no  reply  to  this  remark.  He  felt 
a  stunned  sensation.  Already  the  contest  be 
tween  him  and  his  enemies  across  the  dam  had 
left  him  weak,  crippled,  and  disheartened.  He 
had  not  only  expended  a  heavy  sum  in  legal 
fees,  and  suffered  by  an  award  of  damages 
against  himself,  but  found  his  head  of  water 


60         NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

so  much  reduced  that  only  a  single  pair  of 
mill-stones  could  be  kept  steadily  in  motion, 
while  his  neighbors  on  the  other  side  maintained 
both  factory  and  flouring-mill  in  full  operation 
all  the  while.  His  only  advantage,  up  to  this 
time,  had  been  the  farmers'  custom,  which  his 
location  on  the  best  side  of  the  stream  had  se 
cured.  But  a  new  road  and  bridge  only  a  few 
hundred  yards  below  would  effectually  remove 
this  advantage,  an.d  then  he  would  be  at  the 
mercy  of  his  opponents. 

A  feeling  of  desperation  took  hold  of  Mr. 
Ellis's  mind,  for  he  saw  only  ruin  before  him. 
After  the  farmer  had  driven  away  with  his  bags 
of  meal,  he  started  out  to  learn  all  the  truth 
about  this  new  road.  He  did  not  have  to  go 
very  far  to  obtain  the  information  desired ;  for, 
at  the  point  on  the  creek  which  had  been  selected 
for  crossing,  he  found  Justin,  with  two  other 
men  appointed  by  the  county  commissioners,  en 
gaged  in  making  a  survey,  and  fixing  the  exact 
points  of  location  for  the  bridge.  Tompkins 
was  with  them,  but  in  no  satisfied  mood;  for, 
just  three  weeks  before,  he  had  sold  to  Adam 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          61 

Wheeler  fifty  acres  of  ground,  lying  along  the 
creek,  on  both  sides,  and  through  this  very 
ground  the  surveyor  had  decided  to  run  the 
new  county  road.  Too  late  he  had  discovered 
his  error  in  selling.  The  laud  was  worth  a 
thousand  dollars  more  than  on  the  day  he  passed 
the  title  to  another. 

"Who  bought  the  land?"  asked  Mr.  Ellis,  as 
he  and  Tompkins  drew  apart  from  the  men  en 
gaged  in  running  lines  and  taking  altitudes  and 
distances. 

"  Wheeler,"  was  answered. 

"  My ! "  Ellis  struck  his  hands  together,  as 
he  gave  this  ejaculation,  in  a  surprised  tone. 

"  Somehow  or  other  things  don't  look  right," 
said  Tompkins.  "  Why  should  he  come  to  me 
just  when  he  did,  and  make  an  offer  for  my 
land?" 

"  Simply,"  replied  the  miller,  "  because  he 
knew  about  the  project  for  opening  a  road. 
In  fact,  he's  an  underhand  mover  in  the  whole 
business.  This  road  is  for  his  benefit.  No 
one  else,  in  my  opinion,  cares  a  farthing  about 
it." 


62          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"It  will  be  bad  for  you,"  said  Tompldns. 

"It  will  ruin  me,"  answered  the  miller,  show 
ing  strong  excitement. 

"Can't  you  stop  it?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  It's  too  late.  A  decree  from 
the  court  has  been  obtained." 

"Have  you  consulted  a  lawyer?" 

"Not  yet.  It's  scarcely  an  hour  since  the 
news  reached  me." 

"Take  my  advice,  and  stir  this  whole  matter 
to  the  bottom.  There's  trickery  and  underhand 
work  somewhere.  Nobody  asked  me  to  sign  a 
petition.  Why  not?  Nobody  asked  you  to  sign 
a  petition.  Why  not?  Men  who  work  in  the 
dark  don't  usually  have  the  public  good  in  view. 
Wheeler  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  thing,  depend 
on  it.  He  was  very  fast  to  have  all  the  papers 
signed  after  bargaining  for  this  land.  Couldn't 
wait  a  single  day.  I  felt,  then,  that  he  must  be 
in  possession  of  information  touching  the  real 
value  of  the  land  of  which  I  was  in  igno 
rance." 

"  All  of  which  makes  it  clear  that  he  is  the 
moving  spirit  in  this  business.  I  must  see  my 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  63 

lawyer  immediately,  and  get  him  to  dive  down 
to  the  bottom  of  affairs." 

The  legal  adviser  of  Mr.  Ellis  had  little  com 
fort  to  give.  After  hearing  all  that  his  client 
had  to  say,  he  declared  it  as  his  belief  that  any 
attempt  to  induce  the  court  to  alter  its  decree 
would  be  fruitless* 

"You  can  only  argue,"  he  said,  "an  assumed 
diversion  of  business  from  your  mill  to  Wheeler's, 
and  thence  injury  to  yourself.  But  this  will  not 
influence  the  court.  If  Wheeler  is  able  to  grind 
cheaper  than  you,  the  court  will  say  that  here 
is  a  reason  for,  instead  of  against,  the  road,  as  a 
public  benefit.  You  must  adapt  yourself  to  the 
new  circumstances.  You  must  grind  as  cheaply 
as  Wheeler,  and  thus  retain  your  business." 

"  The  rates  at  which  he  grinds  for  the  farmers 
won't  pay  expenses,"  said  Mr.  Ellis. 

"Then  how  can  he  afford  to  grind  at  such 
prices  ?  " 

"Don't  you  know?  Haven't  I  explained  it  to 
you  over  and  over  again?  He  keeps  two  pairs 
of  burrs  going  all  the  time  on  merchant-work, 
while  I  have  rarely  head  enough  to  run  more 


64          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

than  a  single  pair,  and  must  stop  that  when  a 
grist  is  to  be  ground." 

"  O  !•  Ah  !  Yes.  I  see  now."  And  the  law 
yer  shook  his  head  and  looked  grave ;  adding, 
"There  can  be  no  question  about  the  truth  of 
your  allegation  that  Wing  takes  water  from  the 
dam  at  a  lower  level  than  you  do." 

"None  at  all.  The  thing  is  self-evident.  And 
yet  Justin,  after  making  a  survey  by  order  of 
the  court,  declared  the  levels  to  be  the  same. 
What  am  I  to  do?" 

The  lawyer  sat  musing  for  some  time. 

"We  might  open  the  case  again.  Might  try 
him  on  a  new  issue?" 

"And  have  costs  and  damages  to  pay  as  be 
fore.  There's  no  justice  to  be  had  in  the 
land.  Cheats  and  scoundrels  have  it  all  their 
own  way  ! " 

Mr.  Ellis  was  very  much  excited. 

"Law  is  very  uncertain,"  was  coldly  answered. 
"  No  man  is  sure  of  his  case  until  the  decision  is 
made.  I  have  argued  precisely  similar  cases, 
on  opposite  sides,  and  gained  both  ways.  Law 
and  justice  stood  exactly  in  the  same  relation; 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  65 

but  the  jury  gave  me  the  cases.  One  of  them 
must  have  been  decided  unjustly."  And  the 
lawyer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Then  I  am  to  be  ruined  totally,"  said  the 
miller,  with  much  bitterness  of  manner,  "  ruined 
under  color  of  law !  Shall  I  submit  ?  Shall  I 
lie  down  and  let  wicked  men  trample  me  under 
their  feet?  No,  sir!  I  am  a  peace-loving 
man ;  but  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  I  will 
not  be  driven."  Ellis  was  becoming  strongly 
agitated. 

"There  was  a  time,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  when, 
if  you  had  demanded  your  rights,  and  stood  up 
boldly  in  their  maintenance,  you  could  have 
secured  them.  A  time  when  you  had  the  power 
to  enforce  justice.  But  you  permitted  these 
men  to  intrench  themselves  in  wrong,  and  secure 
advantages  over  you,  day  by  day,  until  they 
have  become  masters  of  the  position.  They  are 
too  strong  for  you,  Mr.  Ellis.  Were  I  in  your 
place,  I'd  get  rid  of  this  mill  property  at  any 
sacrifice.  Neither  peace  nor  prosperity  can  at 
tend  you  in  its  possession." 

"And  you  have  no  better  advice  to  give?" 
5 


66           NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

The  miller  spoke  in  a  half-desponding,  half-des 
perate  tone  of  voice. 

"  None,"  answered  the  lawyer. 

"  I  will  ijot  take  your  advice,"  was  the  sternly 
spoken  reply.  "  If  the  law  withholds  justice,  my 
own  strong  arm  shall  wrest  it  from  those  who 
seek  to  do  me  injury." 

"  Take  care,  Mr.  Ellis,"  said  the  other,  in  a 
warning  voice.  "  When  an  individual  sets  up  to 
right  himself  against  the  law,  he  usually  gets  the 
worst  of  it." 

"  I  shall  get  nothing  worse  than  what  is  sure 
to  come  if  I  sit  still,  and  let  ruin  close  around 
me,"  replied  Ellis.  "I've  done  these  men  no 
wrong;  but,  instead,  have  submitted  to  wrong. 
Not  content  with  gaining  large  advantages,  by 
crippling  my  prosperity,  they  now  seek  to  de 
stroy  me  altogether.  Shall  I  submit?  Never, 
sir !  Never !  If  the  law  will  not  stand  by  me 
as  a  just  man  in  the  community,  —  will  not  save 
me  from  the  wrongs  inflicted  by  evil  men,  —  then 
I  must  fight  my  battle  alone,  and  with  such  weap 
ons  as  I  may  chance  to  possess." 

"Again  I  must  warn  you,"  answered  the  law- 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  67 

yer.  "  Nothing  but  disaster  can  follow  if  you 
seek  to  redress  yourself.  As  I  remarked  just 
now,  there  was  a  time  when  you  had  the  power 
as  well  as  the  right  on  your  side ;  a  time  when 
you  could  have  compelled  these  men  to  abide  by 
the  spirit  of  your  contract  with  Wing.  But  you 
were  afraid  of  trouble  ;  afraid  of  giving  offence 
and  making  enemies ;  afraid  of  getting  into 
law ;  and  so  let  them  gain  one  advantage  over 
you  after  another,  until  now  you  are  powerless 
in  their  hands.  Get  rid  of  this  mill  property  on 
any  terms.  That  is  my  advice." 

But  the  miller  shook  his  head  in  a  resolute 
negative.  Though  apt  to  yield  under  pressure, 
even  when  wrong  encroached,  growing  out  of  a 
natural  love  of  peace,  he  had  a  strong  sense  of 
justice  and  a  large  reserve  of  will.  He  was  not 
quick  to  put  himself  in  the  position  of  an  antago 
nist;  but  the  position  once  assumed,  no  deeply 
imbedded  rock  stood  firmer.  Pride,  of  which 
he  had. a  large  share,  gave  iron  nerves  to  the 
spirit  of  resistance.  From  the  lawyer's  he 
walked  home  slowly,  his  eyes  upon  the  ground, 
and  his  mind  searching  about  for  a  way  of  safe 


68          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

deliverance  from  his  peril.  Many  suggestions 
were  offered ;  but  nearly  all  of  so  desperate  a 
character  that  he  could  not  entertain  them  for  a 
moment.  All  the  following  night  he  lay  awake, 
pondering  the  means  of  self-protection.  By 
morning  he  had  reached  a  conclusion.  He 
would  stop  his  mill,  throw  a  coffer-dam  above 
his  head-gates,  and  proceed  to  lower  the  flume 
two  feet,  thus  securing  the  supply  of  water  to 
which  he  was  fairly  entitled.  Before  acting  on 
this  determination  he  called  to  see  his  lawyer. 
After  listening  to  him,  the  lawyer  shook  his  head 
with  a  decided  negative,  saying,  — 

"  You  can't  do  it." 

"Why  not?  The  land  is  my  own.  Can't  I 
dig  a  ditch  in  it  if  I  choose?"  said  Ellis,  im 
patiently.  He  was  fast  losing  his  old  self-poise. 

"  Something  more  than  digging  a  ditch  is  in 
volved  in  your  purpose,"  replied  the  lawyer. 
"  Others  have  legal  rights  in  the  water  contained 
in  that  dam." 

"  No  legal  right  to  more  than  a  just  share." 

"Of  course  not.  But  legal  rights  are  de 
termined  by  judges  and  juries.  Already  the 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  69 

case  has  been  submitted,  and  the  decision 
made." 

"Do  you  call  that  decision  just?"  demanded 
Ellis,  almost  fiercely. 

"  No ;  I  think  it  unjust.  But  it  was  under  the 
law ;  and  for  you  to  act  in  contravention  thereof, 
is  to  act  at  your  peril." 

"  Suppose  I  sink  my  flume,  what  then?  " 

"You'll  not  be  permitted  to  do  so." 

"  Who  will  hinder  me  ?  " 

"Wing  and  Wheeler  will  ask  for  an  injunction 
to  restrain  you,  and  stop  the  work  ere  it  is  a 
day  old.  It's  no  use,  Mr.  Ellis.  You  can't 
drive  this  matter  in  your  own  way.  Law  rules 
in  our  community,  and  any  attempt  to  work  be 
yond  law  will  operate  to  your  injury.  Better, 
as  I  suggested  yesterday,  sell  out  your  mill. 
These  men  have  you  at  a  disadvantage,  and 
more  will  be  lost  than  gained  in  further  conten 
tion  with  them." 

"If  I  can't  work  the  mill,  nobody  else  can," 
said  Ellis.  "The  property,  as  things  now  stand, 
has  no  actual  value." 

"I  think  you  exaggerate   the   disadvantage," 


70          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

returned  the  lawyer.  "During  at  least  nine 
months  of  the  year  you  will  have  a  full  head  of 
water.  It  is  only  during  the  dry  summer  season 
that  a  deficiency  can  occur.  Don't  look  past 
this  fact." 

"  I  do  look  past  it,"  said  Ellis.  «  What  secu 
rity  have  I  against  such  scoundrels?  They'll 
find  some  means  to  draw  off  the  head,  winter 
and  summer.  Honest  men  have  no  security. 
Law  is  on  the  side  of  rogues ! " 

The  lawyer  did  not  answer.  Ellis  went 
on :  — 

"  I  know  that  I  have  the  right.  And  yet,  in 
appealing  to  the  law  for  protection,  I  am  re 
pulsed  and  punished.  It  is  not  enough  that  I 
suffer  wrong ;  in  seeking  legal  redress  for  that 
wrong  I  am  spurned  as  the  wrong-doer,  aiicl 
penalties  laid  on  my  shoulders.  In  the  very 
effort  to  disentangle  myself  from  the  thraldom 
of  an  unjust  aggression  upon  my  rights,  the  law 
steps  in,  and,  binding  me  hand  and  foot,  throws 
me  helpless  at  the  rnercy  of  my  assailants.  And 
then  I  am  coolly  advised  to  accept  the  humili 
ating  alternative  of  an  abandonment  of  all  to  the 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.     71 

wicked  men  who  are  seeking  my  destruction. 
But,  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  while  I  have  power  to 
lift  a  hand  I  will  not  yield.  If  you  were  to 
offer  me,  this  day,  the  full  cost  of  my  mill  prop 
erty,  I  would  not  accept  the  tender.  I  shall 
hold  it  against  them.  This  strife  of  interest  is 
not  of  my  seeking.  I  meant  all  fair  and  just. 
But  if  fight  is  the  word,  —  if  peace  cannot  be 
maintained  except  by  giving  up  all,  —  then  I  gird 
my  loins  for  battle ;  then  I  draw  the  sword  and 
fliug  away  the  scabbard." 

"Take  a  word  of  advice,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  Say  on." 

"  Beware  how  you  fight !  " 

« #o^I  fight?" 

«  Yes." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  two  men  stood  look 
ing  into  each  other's  faces.  Ellis  understood  the 
warning. 

«  Thank  you,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  heed." 

It  was  now  as  late  in  the  season  as  October. 
The  summer  and  fall  had  been  unusually  dry, 
and,  in  consequence,  Mr.  Ellis  had  lost  seriously 
through  lack  of  water  to  grind,  while  his  neigh- 


72          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

bor's  mill  rumbled  away  under  a  fair  head  all  the 
time.  But  rains  having  set  in,  a  fair  supply  for 
both  mills  was  beginning  to  come  down,  and  as 
the  water-line  commenced  rising  in  Ellis's  flume, 
and  his  great  wheels  to  take  a  steadier  and  faster 
motion,  a  calmer  and  more  hopeful  state  of  mind 
began  to  exist.  There  was  promise  of  a  good 
winter's  grinding;  and,  resting  on  this,  Ellis 
tried  to  push  from  his  thoughts  as  much  as  pos 
sible  everything  connected  with  the  wrongs  he 
had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  his  neighbors.  But 
this  was  no  easy  work,  for,  in  direct  aspect, 
right  over  the  creek,  stood  Wheeler's  mill,  and 
he  could  never  lift  his  eyes  without  seeing  the 
great  water-wheel,  which  always  seemed  to 
glance  at  him  with  a  spiteful  and  defiant  air. 
Thus  bad  blood  was  forever  being  stirred  in  his 
heart. 

In  the  mean  time  work  on  the  new  road  and 
bridge  was  in  rapid  progress,  and  it  was  a  thing 
of  almost  daily  occurrence  for  the  farmers  who 
came  with  their  grists  to  refer  to  the  period  of 
its  completion. 

"You'll  not  have  it  all  your  own  way  long,. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  73 

friend  Ellis,"  one  would  say,  as  he  tried  to  beat 
down  the  miller's  price  for  grinding.  "  The  new 
bridge  will  be  ready  at  Christmas." 

"Your  neighbor  opposite  intends  to  run  you 
off  the  track,"  anothpr  would  remark;  while 
from  a  third  would  come  the  annoying  assevera 
tion,  that  in  a  week  after  the  new  road  and 
bridge  were  completed  he  wouldn't  have  a  grist 
in  his  mill. 

These  things  were  deeply  galling.  Ellis  pon 
dered  them  night  and  day,  a  spirit  of  angry 
desperation  gaining  a  stronger  and  stronger 
ascendency  over  him.  Those  who  had  known 
him  intimately  for  years,  were  surprised  to 
mark  the  change  that  had  come  over  him.  He 
was  harder  and  more  irritable.  All  his  cheer 
fulness  of  temper  was  gone.  It  had  given  place 
to  a  stern  reserve,  that  repelled  almost  every 
one.  Half  of  his  time  he  seemed  lost  amid 
gloomy  thoughts. 

At  last  the  bridge  was  completed,  and,  accord 
ing  to  prediction,  the  farmers'  wagons,  instead 
of  stopping  at  Ellis's  mill,  commenced  crossing 
by  the  new  road.  To  check  this,  the  price  of 


74          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

grinding  was  reduced  to  Wheeler's  schedule, 
which  operated  as  a  temporary  diversion  of  trade 
back  to  the  old  channel.  But  Wheeler  was  not 
the  man  to  yield  in  this  contest,  which  he  had 
resolved  not  to  abandon  until  Ellis  was  wholly 
ruined.  So  he  dropped  to  a  lower  scale,  and 
the  farmers  again  took  their  way  across  the  new 
bridge.  A  few  days  afterwards  a  handbill  was 
circulated  extensively  on  both  sides  of  the  creek, 
in  which  Ellis  used  some  pretty  strong  language 
against  both  Wing  and  Wheeler,  and  closed  by 
declaring  that  he  would  grind  for  any  prices  the 
farmers  might  choose  to  pay.  Two  things  fol 
lowed  by  way  of  retaliation  —  a  libel  suit,  and 
an  offer  to  grind  without  any  charge  whatever. 
So  the  wall  of  fate  seemed  to  rise  higher  and 
close  in  nearer  and  nearer  upon  Ellis  every  day. 
Every  arrow  directed  against  his  neighbors 
across  the  creek  hurt  himself;  every  blow  aimed 
at  them  stunned  him  in  its  recoil.  He  grew 
blinder  and  more  desperate. 

About  this  time  the  appeal  case  was  to  be 
argued  in  court.  For  several  days  before  it  was 
reached  on  the  docket  Mr.  Ellis  was  in  a  state 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.     75 

of  such  nervous  excitement  that  he  could  hardly 
eat  or  sleep. 

"I  shall  lose  it,  of  course,"  he  said.  "Every 
thing  is  going  against  me." 

And  his  prediction  was  verified.  The  decision 
of  the  lower  court  was  affirmed.  The  five  hun 
dred  dollars  damages,  with  additional  costs,  had 
to  be  paid.  Unhappy  man  !  All  things  seemed 
conspiring  to  his  ruin. 

The  offer  made  by  "Wheeler  to  grind  for  noth 
ing,  kept  his  grist-mill  in  full  operation  all  the 
while,  and  left  that  of  Ellis  nearly  idle.  There 
were  a  few,  of  more  just  and  manly  character, 
who  were  not  to  be  influenced  in  the  mean  and 
sordid  way  that  distinguished  the  many,  and 
these  came  to  Ellis.  But  their  number  was  too 
small  to  be  of  much  good  service.  To  some  of 
these  Ellis  talked  freely,  giving  his  own  side 
of  the  case,  and  exhibiting  his  wrongs.  He 
denounced  the  law,  as  made  for  the  benefit  of 
scoundrels ;  and  darkly  hinted  his  purpose  of 
taking  the  law  into  his  own  hands.  Some 
advised  prudence,  while  others  led  him  on  to 
talk  as  freely  as  he  list,  and  encouraged  a  spirit 
of  retaliation. 


76    NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE. 

«  There  'd  be  a  fire  in  this  neighborhood,"  said 
one  of  these  less  considerate  friends,  "were  I 
the  owner  of  your  mill.  I  don't  say  where ; 
but  I'm  sure  of  one  thing  —  it  wouldn't  be  in, 
my  premises."  And  he  looked  meaningly  at 
Ellis.  This  man's  name  was  Porterfield. 

""Where  would  it  be?"  inquired  the  miller, 
who  very  well  understood  what  was  in  his 
neighbor's  mind. 

"  I  don't  say.  But  one  thing  is  certain  —  no 
man  should  drive  me  to  ruin.  If  the  law  failed 
to  protect  me,  I'd  protect  myself.  I  had  a 
neighbor  once  who  was  the  owner  of  a  trouble 
some  steer.  The  animal  had  a  trick  of  opening 
gates  and  taking  down  bars.  There  was  no 
security  against  its  depredations.  One  day  my 
cornfield  suffered  pretty  badly.  I  sent  the 
owner  a  bill  of  damages,  and  he  refused  to 
pay  it,  giving  me  some  impudence.  When  I 
go  in,  I'm  bound  not  to  come  out  second  best. 
So  I  gave  the  bill  to  a  magistrate,  and  told  him 
to  sue.  Well,  as  luck  would  have  it,  I  lost  the 
case  through  some  defect  of  proof,  and  had  costs 
to  pay.  I  was  angry,  and  no  mistake.  But,  as 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE.     77 

I  had  gone  in,  I  wasn't  coming  out  so  —  not  I. 
I  swore  revenge  against  the  old  steer ;  and  that 
was  bad  for  the  steer.  One  day  his  owner 
found  him  with  a  broken  leg,  and  had  to  shoot 
him.  I  think  he  understood  the  case  ;  but  I  had 
taken  care  that  no  evidence  should  lie  at  my 
door." 

Ellis  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  in  a 
thoughtful  way,  and  stood  for  some  time  with 
out  making  any  answer.  The  neighbor  eyed 
him  closely,  and  with  something  of  a  sinister 
expression. 

"  Good  day,"  he  said,  as  he  jumped  into  his 
wagon. 

Ellis  started,  and  a  slight  flush  came  into  his 
face-,  as  he  looked  up  at  the  farmer. 

"  Don't  be  driven  to  the  wall.  Self-preserva 
tion  is  the  first  law  of  nature,"  said  the  latter,  as 
he  took  up  the  reins,  and  gave  them  a  jerk.  "I 
know  very  well  what  I'd  do,  if  I  were  in  your 
place." 

"What?"  asked  Ellis. 

The  man  glanced  across  the  stream  in  a  pecu 
liar  manner,  not  to  be  misunderstood,  and  then, 
speaking  to  his  horse,  drove  away. 


78          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

The  next  man  who  came  to  the  mill  found 
Ellis  so  deeply  immersed  in  thought  that  his 
approach  was  unheeded. 

"Asleep?"  said  he,  touching  the  miller  with 
the  end  of  his  whip. 

Ellis  started  up  like  one  affrighted,  his  face 
crimsoning,  his  air  confused.  His  appearance, 
for  a  moment  or  two,  was  that  of  a  person  try 
ing  hurriedly  to  conceal  something. 

"  Only  day-dreaming,"  he  answered,  affecting 
an  indifference  that  caused  the  other  to  wonder 
at  the  contrast  of  calmness  in  the  tone  with  a 
strange  excitement  of  look  and  manner. 

"  Rather  a  hard  customer  to  deal  with  over 
there,"  remarked  the  man,  as  he  sat  waiting  for 
his  corn  to  be  ground ;  and  he  tossed  his  head  in 
the  direction  of  Wheeler's  mill. 

"  Kather,"  was  coldly  responded. 

"I  never  liked  him,"  said  the  man,  who  was 
inclined  to  draw  out  the  miller. 

Ellis  did  not  answer.  His  mind  was  too  much 
oppressed  by  many  thoughts  to  be  at  all  inclined, 
just  then,  to  conversation. 

"Nobody  likes  him."  The  man  was  more 
emphatic. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  79 

"Why,  then,  does  nearly  everybody  go  to  his 
mill?"  asked  Mr.  Ellis. 

"O,  as  to  that,  if  something  can  be  had  for 
nothing,  nearly  everybody  is  willing  to  accept  the 
accommodation." 

"  Which  doesn't  say  much  for  nearly  every 
body's  sense  of  justice  and  independence." 

"Of  course  not.  But  you  can  buy  one  half 
of  the  people  around  here  for  a  dollar  —  their 
self-respect,  I  mean.  As  for  Adam  Wheeler,  he 
can't  grind  for  me  at  any  price,  while  there's 
another  mill  within  a  distance  of  ten  miles." 

This  drew  Ellis  a  little  out  of  himself,  and 
he  replied,  with  considerable  warmth,  — 

"His  mill  wouldn't  stand  where  it  does  for 
twenty-four  hours  if  justice  were  done." 

"  That's  a  fact,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  under 
stand  the  case  thoroughly.  A  more  shameless 
violation  of  an  individual's  rights  has  not  oc 
curred  in  this  community.  Why  don't  you 
come  down  on  him  with  a  strong  hand,  and 
wrest  by  force  the  justice  denied  by  law?  I 
would  do  it." 

"It's  easy  enough  to  talk,"  said  Ellis,  fret 
fully. 


80         NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"Only  a  little  easier  than  acting,"  answered 
the  man. 

Ellis  looked  at  his  customer  steadily  for  some 
time,  trying  to  read  his  face  ;  but  he  could  make 
out  nothing  satisfactory. 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  went  on  the  other ;  "I 
would  never  stand  it  to  see  that  mill-wheel 
flaunting  itself  in  the  sunshine,  day  after  day. 
It  should  stop,  and  at  any  cost." 

"  How  would  you  stop  it  ?  " 

« I'd  find  a  way." 

"  Show  me  the  way." 

"Can't;  you  must  find  it  out  for  yourself." 
And  the  man,  who  was  standing  in  the  door, 
looking  across  the  creek,  turned  back  into  the 
mill,  and  sat  do.wn  on  a  bag  of  meal,  lightly 
humming  a  tune. 

"  I've  tried  law  to  my  sorrow,"  said  Ellis. 

"  Law ! "  The  man  snapped  his  fingers  in 
contempt.  "Honest  men  usually  come  out 
second  best  in  law." 

"  What  other  safe  recourse  is  left  ?  " 

"  One  thing  is  very  plain,"  was  answered ;  "  if 
you  sit  still,  and  let  your  enemy  gain  one  or 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    SI 

two  more  trifling  advantages,  it  is  all  over  with 
you." 

"I  know  that  as  well  as  you." 

"And  you're  going  to  sit  still?" 

"I?"  Two  red  spots  came  out  on  the 
cheeks  of  Mr.  Ellis ;  and  there  was  a  flashing 
light  in  his  eyes. 

"  So  I  understand  you." 

"Don't!" 

"  Ah  !     Then  you  are  not  going  to  sit  still  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not  —  unless  my  hands  and  feet  are 
tied." 

"  That's  talking  like  a  man.  When  you  havo 
justice  on  your  side,  fight  to  the  bitter  end." 

"What  I  intend  doing." 

"Desperate  diseases  require  desperate  reme 
dies;  and  this  case  is  a  desperate  one." 

"  That's  so  ! "  replied  Ellis,  with  knit  brows  and 
a  clinched  hand,  that  was  shaken  menacingly 
towards  his  neighbor's  mill.  "There  are  re 
served  forces  with  every  man,  and  he  is  a 
coward  who  fails  to  use  them  in  extremity." 

"  And  elements  quite  as  potent  as  law,"  said 
the  tempter. 

6 


82          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

«  Exactly." 

"I  thought  it  was  in  you.  Now,  do  you 
know  that  Wheeler  and  Wing  think  you  a 
coward  —  a  man  who  will  go  down  rather  than 
fight  in  mortal  desperation?" 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  demanded  Ellis, 
in  a  fiery  manner.  The  remark  had  stung 
him. 

"  Some  things  are  said  and  some  things  are 
heard.  Men  talk  out  as  they  think,  when  they 
feel  safe  in  regard  to  listeners.  Wheeler  talks 
now  and  then,  and  so  does  Wing.  I've  heard 
them." 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  say  now ;  but  I  have 
heard  them  talking  in  my  time." 

"  About  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  they  intend  driving  me  to  the  wall,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  They  do ;  and  not  only  driving  you  to  the 
wall,  but  pinning  you  there.  Now  you  under 
stand  just  what  you  have  to  expect  from  them, 
and  must  govern  yourself  accordingly.  It  has 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    §3 

come  to  be  a  case  of  life  and  death,  friend 
Ellis ;  and  you'll  have  to  look  it  steadily  in  the 
face.  They  are  bound  to  destroy  you,  root  and 
branch.  Strike  first,  and  destroy  them, — that's 
my  advice." 

"  Strike  first,"  said  Ellis  to  himself,  when 
alone.  "Where  shall  I  strike?  How  shall  I 
strike?" 

He  sat  down  in  a  dull,  abstracted  way,  but 
did  not  long  remain  so.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
rose  up  hurriedly,  and,  as  if  by  a  forced  effort, 
gave  himself  to  the  work  around  him  —  now  ex 
amining  the  flour  as  it  came  from  a  pair  of  mill 
stones,  to  see  if  the  grinding  was  right,  and 
slightly  altering  the  pressure ;  now  looking 
down  into  the  cog-pit,  and  listening  to  the  jar 
and  rattle  of  the  great  iron  wheels  ;  now  passing 
to  the  upper  floors,  and  examining  the  grain- 
garner  ;  and  now,  guided  by  the  creaking  of  a 
dry  journal,  giving  to  the  heated  machinery  a 
needed  supply  of  oil.  In  this  way  Mr.  Ellis 
occupied  himself  for  more  than  half  an  hour. 
Then,  leaning  from  one  of  the  upper  windows 
that  looked  across  the  creek,  he  fixed  his  eyes 


84    NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE. 

upon  Wheeler's  mill.  There  had  been  a  partial 
lifting  of  the  clouds  from  his  countenance  while 
he  moyed  about  and  gave  thought  to  the  com 
mon  duties  that  lay  around  him ;  but  now  the 
shadows  fell  over  it  again.  Nearer  than  the 
tempting  neighbor  had  stood  to  him,  a  little 
while  before,  stood  a  subtle  enemy,  whispering 
of  revenge,  assault,  and  destruction.  Ques 
tioned  the  fiend,  tauntingly,  — 

"Are  you  going  down  without  a  last  fierce 
struggle  ?  " 

"  No !  "  ejaculated  the  miller,  clinching  his 
hands.  "By  all  that  I  hold  dear  and  sacred, 
no !  I  will  not  be  swept  down  and  leave  him 
secure  and  triumphant.  For  the  sake  of  peace 
and  neighborly  good-will  I  gave  way  in  the 
beginning,  when  right  admonished  me  to  stand 
firm.  I  put  weapons  into  the  hands  of  mine 
enemy,  and  now  he  pursues  me  to  utter  destruc 
tion.  Shall  I  not,  being  at  bay,  fight  with  mad 
desperation  ?  Shall  I  not  destroy  this  enemy  to 
save  myself?  " 

"If  you  are  a  man  !  "  whispered  the  fiend. 

Then  a  vision  passed,  for  an  instant,  before  the 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  §5 

eyes  of  Ellis.  Suddenly  flames  broke  out,  and 
leaping  upwards  and  around  the  mill  opposite, 
held  it  in  a  fiery  pall. 

The  miller  caught  his  breath  as  the  vision 
passed,  and  turned  from  the  window  with  a  pale, 
startled  face. 

"  It  must  come  to  that."  The  fiend  was  still 
at  his  ear.  "It  must  come  to  that.  There  is 
no  other  way  of  safety.  If  he  stands,  you  fall. 
One  of  these  mills  must  go  down.  Shall  it  be 
yours  ?  " 

"  It  shall  not  be  mine  ! "  answered  the  miller 
to  himself,  sternly. 

In  the  evening,  when  Mr.  Ellis  came  home, 
his  wife  noticed  a  change  in  his  appearance. 

"Are  you  sick,  Thomas?"  she  asked,  with 
some  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

Pie  turned  his  face  aside,  as  he  answered, 
with  what  seemed  to  her  embarrassment  and  eva 
sion,  "No;  I'm  very  well:"  and  passing  her 
with  unusual  quickness,  went  to  one  of  the 
chambers,  and  remained  there  until  called  to 
supper ;  then  he  came  down  and  took  his  place 
at  the  table. 


86          NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"You're  not  eating  anything,  Thomas,"  said 
his  wife,  after  a  little  while.  Ellis,  who  had 
fallen  into  an  absent  state,  rallied  himself,  with 
a  slight  confusion  of  manner,  and  lifting  his 
yet  untasted  cup  of  tea,  drank  it  off  at  a  single 
draught. 

"I  don't  feel  much  appetite,"  he  answered;  and 
pushing  his  chair  back  from  the  table,  got  up 
and  went  away  to  a  shaded  part  of  the  room, 
where  he  sat  with  his  face  in  more  concealment. 

"Does  anything  trouble  you,  Thomas?"  asked 
Mrs.  Ellis,  coming  to  his  side  a  little  while  after 
wards,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  him. 

"Yes,  something  always  troubles  me,"  he  an 
swered,  gloomily.  "Can  I  smile  and  be  at  peace, 
when  I  see  a  gulf  opening  at  my  feet?" 

"Don't  talk  so,  husband;  it  distresses  me," 
said  Mrs.  Ellis.  "All  will  come  out  right  in  the 
end,  if  you  continue  to  do  right." 

"It's  coming  out  right  very  fast,  isn't  it,  now?" 
he  answered,  in  a  tone  of  irony.  "  Coming  out 
right  very  fast !  What  is  my  mill  property 
worth  to-day?  Nothing — just  nothing  at  all! 
Have  I  done  wrong  to  any  one?  Have  I  not 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.     §7 

been  just  in  dealing?  If  I  continue  to  do 
right !  No,  no ;  that  assurance  goes  for  noth 
ing.  Rogues  have  it  all  their  own  way  nowa 
days  ;  honest  men  are  at  a  discount." 

"  That  I  should  live  to  hear  you  say  so, 
Thomas ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ellis,  tears  falling 
over  her  cheeks. 

"  That  I  should  live  to  say  so  !  "  was  answered, 
gloomily. 

"  Something  has  happened  to  make  you  de 
spond  ;  but  you'll  see  more  clearly  in  the  morn 
ing."  Mrs.  Ellis  tried  to  speak  cheerfully. 

"  In  the  morning  !  "  He  turned  his  head  with 
a  quick  motion,  and  looked  for  an  instant  intent 
ly  at  his  wife. 

"  Sleep  calms  the  mind,  Thomas.  We  lie 
down  at  night  with  troubled  hearts,  and  when 
the  morning  breaks,  all  is  again  peaceful.  Still 
trust  in  God,  and  have  faith  in  the  right.  The 
wicked  may  flourish  for  a  season ;  but,  like 
flowers  with  a  worm  at  the  root,  they  wither 
often  in  a  day.  Though  all  looks  dark  around 
you,  dear  husband,  the  sun  will  come  forth 
again." 


88          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  I  cannot  hope  against  hope,"  replied  Mr. 
Ellis,  with  an  air  of  impatience.  "  Every  strug 
gle  that  I  have  made,  in  the  effort  to  disentangle 
myself  from  the  toils  of  my  enemies,  has  only 
given  them  a  new  power  over  me.  But  "  —  and 
his  manner  changed  —  "  one  thing  is  certain  ;  I 
am  not  going  down  without  a  last  struggle. 
They  shall  not  destroy  me  wholly,  and  yet  dwell 
in  safety." 

He  set  his  teeth,  and  clinched  his  hands,  in  a 
way  that  caused  a  low,  creeping  chill  to  pass 
along  the  nerves  of  his  wife.  She  tried  to  re 
monstrate,  but  he  waved  his  hand  with  increasing 
impatience,  and  said,  — 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  Margaret !  I  can't  bear  it 
just  now." 

Mrs.  Ellis  moved  away  from  her  husband,  a 
sad  look  falling  over  her  patient  face.  Rising, 
the  unhappy  man  went  from  the  house.  It  was 
a  clear,  starlit  night.  Across  the  creek,  that 
flowed  a  little  way  from  his  dwelling,  the  flouring 
and  woollen  mills  of  Wheeler  and  Winer  loomed 

O 

faintly  out  from  the  surrounding  darkness.     Mr. 
Ellis  stood  still,  gazing  at  them  for  a  long  time ; 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.          89 

then  he  passed  clown  to  the  side  of  the  stream, 
by  a  road  leading  towards  his  own  mill,  and  get 
ting  close  to  the  water,  bent  forward,  and  ex 
amined  certain  rocks  and  large  stones  that  lay  in 
the  creek.  Apparently  not  satisfied,  he  moved 
farther  down,  and  orice  more  strained  his  eyes 
into  the  murky  air.  To  all  appearance,  his  de 
sign  was  to  cross  over  to  the  other  side ;  for  he 
now  stepped  carefully  from  the  shore  upon  the 
broad  rock  that  stretched  for  several  yards  into 
the  shallow  stream,  and  after  getting  to  the  end 
of  this,  jumped  across  to  another  and  smaller 
rock.  Beyond  this,  at  short  but  irregular  dis 
tances,  and  ranging  up  the  stream,  were  a  num 
ber  of  projecting  stones  and  points  of  nearly 
submerged  rocks,  around  which  the  water  rushed 
and  foamed  noisily.-  From  one  to  another  of 
these  Ellis  passed,  slipping  now  and  then,  but 
maintaining  his  erect  position  until  he  gained 
the  other  side.  Here,  with  his  heart  beating  in 
great  audible  throbs,  he  stood  still,  and  for 
nearly  five  minutes  scarcely  stirred  from  the 
spot.  All  was  silent,  save  the  rain-like  seething 
of  the  dam,  over  which  a  thin  veil  of  water  was 
falling. 


90    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

Why  was  he  there,  and  at  that  hour?  Wh  tt 
was  passing  in  his  thoughts  ?  Never  in  his  life 
before  had  he  been  there  at  that  hour,  and  alone. 
Miserable  man  !  How  was  the  tempter  gaining 
over  him ! 

Suddenly  starting,  he  listened  with  strained 
ear,  and  eyes  searching  into  the  surrounding 
nio-ht.  Something  was  moving  not  far  off.  He 

O  O  o 

saw  a  form  but  half  defined,  and  heard  the  drop 
ping  of  feet  among  the  grass  and  leaves,  but 
could  not  make  out  whether  it  was  that  of  a  man 
or  an  animal.  Whoever  or  whatever  it  was,  the 
form  soon  lost  itself  in  the  darkness,  and  the 
sound  which  had  startled  him  was  no  longer 
heard. 

A  nervous  trembling  now  seized  upon  Mr. 
Ellis.  His  limbs  shook,  his  knees  bent  under 
the  weight  of  his  body,  his  teeth  rattled.  Slow 
ly  and  cautiously  he  commenced  the  difficult 
task  of  recrossing  the  stream.  When  near  the 
centre,  his  foot  slipped  from  the  side  of  a  slimy 
stone,  and  one  leg  was  buried  knee-deep  in  the 
water.  Recovering  himself,  he  made  the  rest  of 
his  way  across  without  further  mishap,  and  when 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.     91 

safely  on  his  own  side,  sat  down  upon  a  stone, 
weak  and  panting.  As  soon  as  he  had  regained 
a  degree  of  calmness,  Mr.  Ellis  arose  and  re 
turned  to  his  house.  Avoiding  his  wife,  he 
went  up  stairs,  and  removing  his  wet  shoe  and 
stocking,  concealed  them  in  a  dark  closet. 
Then  taking  a  pair  of  dry  stockings,  and  an 
other  pair  of  shoes,  he  laid  them  with  his  cloth 
ing,  which  he  removed,  and  went  to  bed.  * 

An  hour  afterwards,  when  Mrs.  Ellis  came  up, 
she  spoke  to  her  husband,  but  he  did  not  answer. 
Holding  a  candle  near  his  face,  she  looked  at 
him  with  eyes  full  of  tenderness  and  pity,  mur 
muring1  to  herself  as  she  did  so,  "I'm  glad  he's 

C5  *  O 

sleeping." 

But  did  he  sleep  ?  Two  hours  later  he  stood 
over  her,  candle  in  hand.  But  the  light  did  not 
send  a  beam  through  the  closely-shut  eyelids. 
Silentty  withdrawing,  Mr.  Ellis,  who  was  only 
partially  dressed,  shut  the  chamber  door,  and  in 
the  next  room  fully  attired  himself.  Then  put 
ting  out  the  light,  he  felt  his  way  down  stairs, 
and  left  the  house.  The  same  road  taken  ear 
lier  in  the  night  was  taken  now,  and  in  a  few 


92          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

minutes  he  stood  by  the  starlit  stream,  that  gur 
gled,  and  seethed,  and  murmured  through  its 
rocky  obstructions.  There  was  no  hesitation 
of  manner  now.  With  bold  strides  the  miller 
dashed  across  from  rock  to  rock,  and  in  a  few 
excited  moments  stood  upon  the  opposite  shore. 
The  point  was  several  hundred  yards  below 
Wheeler's  mill,  the  outline  of  which  cut  sharply 
against  the  moonless  sky.  Picking  his  way 
along  the  shore,  Ellis  approached  the  mill,  mov 
ing  with  increasing  caution  as  he  drew  near. 
He  was  not  over  a  hundred  feet  distant,  when 
a  light,  as  if  a  great  meteor  had  suddenly 
streamed  across  the  sky,  lifted  the  whole  laud- 
scape  out  of  darkness,  making  even  the  smallest 
objects  visible.  Turning  his  eyes  upon  the  mill, 
near  which  he  stood,  he  saw  a  volume  of  flame 
that  filled  the  whole  of  an  upper  window  pour 
ing  out  like  a  devouring  flood.  Surprise  and 
fear  paralyzed  him.  He  stood  immovable  for 
several  moments,  the  light  growing  stronger  and 
stronger  all  the  while,  as  the  flame  spread,  reach 
ing  to  other  windows,  and  leaping  forth  into 
the  air,  until,  within  a  wide  circle,  it  was  lumi 
nous  as  day. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  93 

An  instinct  of  danger  caused  Mr.  Ellis  to 
glance  hurriedly  around  him,  here  and  there, 
for  a  place  of  concealment.  He  dared  not  ven 
ture  to  recross  the  stream,  lest  some  neighbor, 
aroused  by  the  conflagration,  should  discover 
him  in  the  passage.  To  be  found  away  from 
home  at  midnight,  and  in  such  near  proximity 
to  the  burning  mill,  would  surely  lead  to  his 
arrest  as  an  incendiary.  He  shuddered  at  his 
peril,  while  great  beads  of  cold  perspiration 
stood  upon  his  face.  Intense  the  light  grew, 
the  rays  seeming  to  draw  around  him  as  a  focal 
centre. 

"  Fire  !  Fire  !  "  The  cry  broke  wildly  out  of 
the  deep  silence.  Ellis  turned,  and  saw  a  man 
springing  down  the  bank  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  creek,  and  dashing  into  the  water.  To  run 
for  a  clump  of  trees  that  stood  a  few  hundred 
feet  from  the  stream  was  to  act  from  a  natural 
perception  of  danger.  Gaining  the  sheltering 
point,  and  crouching  among  the  underbrush,  he 
looked  out  fearfully  upon  the  scene..  "Fire! 
Fire!"  The  wild  cry,  given  at  short  intervals, 
kept  thrilling  the  air.  Soon  it  was  repeated, 


94          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

first  singly  and  remotely,  but  soon  in  multiplied 
responses,  and  in  the  nearer  mingling  of  excited 
voices. 

"  Fire !  Fire ! "  It  was  just  behind  him. 
Mr.  Ellis  crouched  lower  to  the  earth,  actually 
creeping  under  the  closely-matted  leaves  and 
branches  of  a  large  hawthorn.  The  man  who 
had  uttered  the  cry  passed  within  a  few  feet  of 
where  he  was  lying,  and  encountered,  a  little 
way  beyond,  another  man,  who  asked,  in  an  ex 
cited  voice,  — 

"Did  you  see  a  person  running?" 

"  No  !  "  was  answered. 

"  He  went  in  just  there.  I  saw  him  as  I  came 
down  on  the  other  side.  He  was  out  in  the 
glare  of  the  light,  and  ran  off  at  my  cry  of '  Fire.' 
What  was  he  doing  there  ?  Why  did  he  not  give 
the  alarm  ?  Why  did  he  run  ?  " 

At  this  instant,  a  cry  that  made  all  hearts 
shudder  rang  out  from  the  mill,  and  a  man  ap 
peared  at  an  upper  story,  stretching  forth  his 
hands  for  succor.  It  was  Wheeler.  Below  him 
the  story  was  on  fire,  and  the  flames  beginning 
to  crash  through  the  windows,  from  which  dense 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.  95 

volumes  oramoke  belched  forth.  The  men  who 
had  paused  near  to  where  Ellis  lay  concealed 
now  dashed  off  towards  the  mill.  Creeping 
forth  from  his  hiding-place,  Ellis  retreated  far 
ther  away,  until  he  reached  the  skirt  of  a  dense 
wood,  into  which  he  retired  hastily,  running 
until  at  so  great  a  distance  from  the  burning 
mill  that  he  was  in  no  danger  of  discovery. 
Here  he  found  opportunity  to  rally  his  bewil 
dered  faculties,  and  to  let  reason  take  the  place 
of  blind  fear. 

A  little  clear  thinking  soon  made  it  plain  to 
Mr.  Ellis  that  the  only  way  to  avoid  suspicion 
was  to  hasten  to  the  scene  of  conflagration,  and 
join  in  with  his  neighbors  in  their  effort  to  save 
life  and  property.  But  was  there  not  danger  ill 
approaching  the  fire  from  the  side  opposite  that 
on  which  he  lived  ?  Might  not  the  man  who  saw 
him  fleeing  for  concealment  recognize  him  ?  But 
how  was  it  possible  to  gain  his  own  side  of  the 
creek  without  being  discovered?  As  Mr.  Ellis 
debated,  time  passed,  every  moment  increasing 
his  perplexity.  The  roar  of  the  conflagration, 
and  the  confused  mingling  of  many  voices, 


96    NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE. 

grew  louder  and  louder.  To  hesitate  long  was 
fatal. 

Desperately  breaking  forth  from  the  woods, 
Ellis  at  length  dashed  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  mill,  determined  to  reach  it  by  the  short 
est  way.  As  he  sprang  over  a  fence  that  sepa 
rated  a  field  from  the  common  road,  he  came 
upon  a  man  who  was  running  at  full  speed 
towards  the  fire. 

"Why,  Ellis!"  exclaimed  the  man.  "What 
are  you  doing  here?" 

"O,  Porterfield !  Is  this  you?"  responded 
the  miller,  in  a  voice  that  betrayed  his  agitation. 
"I  crossed  by  the  bridge,  and  took  a  short  cut 
through  the  woods." 

"  A  short  cut !  I  should  call  it  a  long  cut," 
answered  the  man,  as  they  ran  forward,  side  by 
side. 

"  It  proved  a  long  cut,"  answered  Ellis,  driven 
to  find  some  plausible  explanation,  "  for  I  got 
bewildered  and  turned  out  of  the  way.  This  is 
a  bad  business." 

"What?" 

"This  fire." 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  97 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  There  was  a  meaning  in 
Porterfield's  voice  that  did  not  fall  pleasantly  on 
the  millers  ears. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Fire  is  always  a  great  dis 
aster." 

"It  will  hardly  prove  a  disaster  to  you  in 
the  present  case,  I'm  thinking,"  said  Porter- 
field.  "  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any 
good." 

By  this  time  they  came  into  the  open  space 
that  surrounded  the  mill.  A  large  number  of 
persons  had  already  reached  the  scene  of  con 
flagration,  and  hundreds  more  were  flocking 
thitherward  from  all  directions.  But  fire  was 
absolute  monarch  for  that  night.  The  pale 
crowd  that  stood  helplessly  gazing  up  at  the 
madly  leaping  and  quivering  flames,  had  no 
power  to  stay  their  progress ;  and  when  the  roof 
went  crushing  in  upon  the  consuming  floors,  an 
answering  groan  of  pain  and  horror  fell  upon  the 
air,  for  beneath  that  falling  roof  was  the  body  of 
Adam  Wheeler ! 

For  nearly  two  hours  the  mill  burned ;  and 
then  the  fierce  flames  went  down,  dying  amid 
7 


98          NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

heaps  of  red  coals,  that  hiy  between  the  walls 
like  furnace  fires. 

As  Mr.  Ellis  stood  among  the  crowds  of  peo 
ple  drawn  to  the  scene  of  destruction,  half 
stupefied  and  bewildered,  his  ears  took  in  many 
sentences  that  made  his  heart  sink  and  tremble. 
Two  men  talked  thus,  not  knowing  that  he  was 
near  them. 

"  There's  been  foul  work  here,  I'm  afraid,"  said 
one  of  them. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  was  inquired. 

"  I  have  my  suspicious,"  vaguely  replied  the 
first  speaker. 

"  Whom  do  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  There  have  been  two  or  three  lawsuits  about 
this  mill  property." 

"With  Ellis?" 

"I  didn't  mention  any  names." 

"You  might  as  well  have  done  so,"  said  the 
man  with  whom  he  was  conversing. 

"  Other  people  may  call  names.  I  never  do," 
was  answered. 

"But  you  really  think  the  mill  was  set  on 
fire  ?  " 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE.  99 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  I  saw." 

"What?" 

"  I  was  the  first  man  who  cried  '  Fire  ! ' ' 

"  Were  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  The  light  shone  into  my  window  and 
awoke  me.  I  ran  out  and  gave  the  alarm.  As 
I  came  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek,  I 
distinctly  saw  a  man  just  below  the  mill.  He 
escaped  from  the  circle  of  light,  and  hid  himself 
among  the  trees." 

"Is  that  so?"  Indignation  mingled  with  sur 
prise  in  the  man's  voice. 

"It  is." 

"Then  he  must.be  discovered.  Did  you 
recognize  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Ellis  held  his  breath.  But  the  man  did 
not  reply. 

"Was  it  Ellis?" 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  accuse  any  one ! 
No,  I  do  not  believe  it  was  Ellis." 

It  did  not  take  long  for  the  fact  that  a  man 
had  been  seen  near  the  mill,  when  the  fire  was 
first  discovered,  to  reach  every  person  in  the 
crowd  that  stood  around  the  smouldering  ruins. 


100        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

And  this  fact  was  conclusive  as  to  the  incendiary 
origin  of  the  fire.  That  settled,  the  next  thing 
was  to  direct  suspicion  towards  an  individual. 
From  lip  to  lip  the  name  of  Thomas  Ellis  passed 
in  whispered  utterances.  Some  believed  and 
some  rejected  the  charge ;  nearly  all  were 
shocked  and  sorrowful,  for  Thomas  Ellis 
stood  without  reproach  among  his  neighbors. 
All  knew  him  as  a  man  of  integrity  and  kind 
ness.  Instinctively  men  shrunk  from  him  in 
the  crowd,  or  glanced  at  him  furtively,  and  with 
suspicion  or  accusation  in  their  faces. 

As  the  fire  in  the  burning  mill  fell  lower  and 
lower,  and  night  stole  back  again,  spreading  her 
dusky  mantle  over  the  hills  and  valleys,  despair 
settled  down  upon  the  heart  of  Mr.  Ellis.  He 
felt  that  he  was  doomed.  As  he  moved,  men 
drew  back  from  him.  Returning  over  the 
stream,  at  the  point  where  he  had  twice 
crossed  it  that  night,  he  went  with  slow  steps 
back  to  his  home,  feeling  like  a  criminal  with 
the  law  officers  close  upon  his  track. 

The  white  face  of  Mr.  Ellis  startled  his  wife 
like  an  apparition. 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.         1Q1 

"  O,  Thomas!"  she  exclaimed,  taking  hold 
of  him  with  a  sudden  grasp  as  he  came  in. 
"Are  you  sick,  or  hurt?" 

"I  am  sick,  Margaret,"  answered  the  unhappy 
man,  in  a  voice  so  changed  to  the  ears  of  Mrs. 
Ellis  that  it  did  not  sound  like  the  voice  of  her 
husband.  And  as  he  said  this,  he  laid  his  head 
down  upon  her,  and  sobbed  once  or  twice.  A 
strong  shudder  ran  through  his  frame ;  then  he 
was  calm  and  self-possessed. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said,  speaking  in  an  even 
tone,  "  it  is  better  that  I  should  tell  you  all, 
that  you  may  know  exactly  where  I  stand.  I 
shall  be  charged  with  the  crime  of  burning  this 
mill,  and  the  life  of  Adam  Wheeler  will  be  laid 
upon  my  head." 

Instantly  the  form  of  his  wife  fell  away  from 
him  as  though  she  had  been  pierced  with  light 
ning.  He  grasped  after  her,  clutching  her  gar 
ments,  and  just  saving  her  from  a  heavy  fall. 

"  But  I  am  innocent,  dear  wife  !  My  hands 
are  clean  ! " 

Mrs.  Ellis  caught  her  breath,  shudderingly, 
and  regained  her  half-extinguished  conscious 
ness. 


102        NOT    ANYTHING    FOK    PEACE. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  Thomas,"  she  murmured, 
faintly,  "aiid  no  one  will  believe  the  cruel 
charge." 

"  All  believe  it  now,  Margaret.  This  I  want 
you  clearly  to  understand,  that  you  may  be 
prepared  for  the  worst.  There  is  no  time  for 
softening  this  announcement.  The  calamity  is 
at  our  door.  I  am  in  God's  hands,  and  he 
alone  can  save  me.  An  hour  from  this  time, 
and  I  shall,  without  question,  be  in  the  hands 
of  an  officer.  Before  separation,  I  must  lay 
bare  some  things  which  it  will  be  best  for  you 
to  know,  in  order  to  save  the  possibility  of 
a  misjudgment  of  your  husband.  The  evidence 
will,  I  fear,  be  strong  against  me,  for  I  was 
near  the  mill  when  the  fire  broke  out." 

"You,  Thomas  !     You  near  the  mill?" 

"Yes,  Margaret.  Don't  shiver  so!  I  am  in 
nocent." 

"O,  my  husband!  my  husband!"  Wildly 
Mrs.  Ellis  wrung  her  hands. 

"  I  am  innocent,  Margaret.  Innocent  in  act, 
but  not  innocent  before  God !  Crime  was  in 
my  heart,  —  maddened  by  desperation,  —  and  I 
meditated  the  evil  thing  which  has  come." 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.        1Q3 

"You  will  kill  me,  Thomas  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ellis. 

"  It  had  been  better  for  us  if  we  had  died  a 
year  ago,  Margaret."  Mr.  Ellis  was  strangely 
calm  now,  even  as  the  surface  of  the  sea  is  calm 
under  the  pressure  of  a  heavy  storm.  "An  evil 
power  has  been  at  work  against  me.  All  hell 
seems  to  have  leagued  itself  for  my  destruction. 
I  have  tried  to  live  at  peace  with  my  neighbors ; 
I  have  tried  to  be  just  in  my  dealings  towards 
all  men ;  but  even  my  virtues  have  been  used 
as  instruments  of  ruin.  God  help  me  ! " 

"  O,  my  husband  !  God  will  help  you.  Re 
member  what  the  Bible  says  :  I  am  a  very  pres 
ent  help  in  time  of  trouble." 

"I  cannot  look  up  in  any  hope,  Margaret. 
Hush  !  "  And  Ellis  glanced  towards  the  door, 
bending  his  head  in  a  listening  attitude. 

"I  don't  hear  any  one,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis,  after 
hearkening  for  a  moment. 

Rising,  the  wretched  man  went  from  the  room 
where  they  were  sitting  into  one  that  adjoined, 
shutting  the  door  so  as  to  exclude  the  light.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  came  back,  saying,  as  he  re 
joined  his  wife,  — 


104       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"It  is  as  I  supposed.  Men  are  guarding  the 
house  to  prevent  escape  until  a  warrant  for  my 
arrest  is  obtained.  And  now,  in  the  brief  time 
that  we  are  to  remain  together,  let  me  open  the 
door  of  my  heart,  that  you  may  look  in,  Mar 
garet,  and  know  just  what  manner  of  man  I  am. 
As  I  told  you  just  now,  I  am  not  innocent  before 
God,  for  I  did  purpose  the  thing  which  has  oc 
curred.  Driven  to  despair  by  the  wrongs  I 
have  suffered,  —  seeing  only  ruin  before  me,  —  in 
an  evil  hour  I  yielded  to  the  tempter.  '  If  I  must 
go  down,  he  shall  go  down  also,'  I  said.  You 
can  never  know  how  I  battled  with  this  tempta 
tion.  But  the  darkness  of  midnight  gathered 
around  me.  I  could  see  light  only  in  one  direc 
tion, —  a  path  only  in  one  way,  —  and  towards 
that  lurid  light,  along  that  dreadful  path,  I  at 
last  consented  to  go.  After  you  were  asleep, 
I  left  the  house,  and  crossed  the  creek,  fixed  iu 
my  determination  to  set  "Wheeler's  mill  on  fire. 
It  had,  I  reasoned,  no  right  to  be  there.  It  was 
built  in  fraud,  and  stood  in  violation  of  my 
rights.  Either  it  must  be  destroyed,  or  my  ruin 
was  certain.  I  had  appealed  to  the  law,  but  the 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.   1Q5 

law,  instead  of  giving  relief,  had  actually  pun 
ished  me  as  a  transgressor.  Self-protection,  I 
said,  is  the  first  law  of  nature.  And  so  I 
pressed  blindly  forward,  resolved  to  do  a  deed, 
the  bare  thought  of  which  now  fills  me  with 
shuddering.  I  had  gained  the  other  side,  and 
was  approaching  the  mill,  when  a  light  glared 
up,  and  all  objects  around  me  became  visible. 
Lifting  my  eyes,  I  saw  flames  bursting  from  the 
windows.  My  feet  stood  still.  I  was  like  one 
paralyzed.  A  strange  thrill  quivered  along  my 
nerves,  niy  hair  lifted  itself,  my  flesh  seemed 
to  creep.  It  grew  lighter  and  lighter.  Day  was 
not  more  intense.  And  there  I  stood,  in  the 
broad  revealing  glare,  unable  to  stir. 

"Even  while  I  stood  there,  the  cry  of  'Fire  !' 
came  ringing  out  upon  the  air,  and,  turning,  I 
saw  a  man  leaping  down  towards  the  creek  from 
this  side.  The  instinct  of  impending  danger 
gave  life  to  my  feet,  and  I  started  for  a  hiding- 
place  in  the  woods.  There  I  lay  concealed  for 
a  while,  and  then  came  forth,  intending  to 
join  in  the  crowd  which  had  by  this  time  gath 
ered  near  the  burning  mill,  trusting  that  I  had 


106       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

not  been  recognized  by  the  man  who  had  seen 
me  in  the  circle  of  light  made  by  the  flames. 
But,  as  I  came  from  the  woods  into  the  road, 
John  Porterfield  happened  to  be  just  at  that 
point  running  towards  the  fire.  Recognizing 
me,  he  put  curious  questions  as  to  my  being 
just  there,  which  I  did  not  answer  satisfactorily. 
Strange  union  of  suspicious  incidents !  This 
very  man,  not  twelve  hours  ago,  was  a  tempting 
devil  at  my  ear.  His  suggestions  gave  fire  to 
the  half-formed  purposes  in  my  mind.  He 
helped  to  lead  me  out  of  the  right  path ;  and 
no  sooner  was  I  .astray,  than  his  eyes  saw  the 
departure.  Margaret,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
were  God-forsaken  !  And  yet  I  have  one  great 
consolation  —  the  retribution  which  has  fallen 
upon  my  enemy  came  not  from  this  hand. 
Though  evil  was  in  my  heart,  there  was  a  limit 
to  the  act.  Before  God  I  am  guilty,  but  not 
before  men.  If  men  condemn  and  punish,  their 
sentence  will  be  unjust ;  I  shall  not  suffer  for 
evil  doing.  O,  my  wife  !  believe  me  in  this.  I 
have  told  you  all." 

"  O,    Thomas  !      My  husband  I      If    all    men 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.        1Q7 

condemn  thee,  yet  will  I  not."  Mrs.  Ellis  drew 
her  arms  around  his  neck.  "Thank  God  that 
you  are  innocent  of  this  dreadful  thing  !  Thank 
God  that  you  were  saved,  even  m  the  last 
bitter  moment  of  overwhelming  temptation. 
Let  us  take  it  as  an  assurance  that  these 
floods,  which  roar  so  fearfully,  will  not  over 
whelm  us." 

"And  you  do  not  doubt  me,  Margaret?" 

"  O,  no,  no  !  " 

"If  you  doubt  me,  I  am  lost.  If  your  faith 
fail  not,  I  may  have  strength  to  bear  up,  though 
my  name  be  cast  out  as  evil.  I  shall  be  tried ; 
and  there  will  appear  strong  evidence  against 
me.  Even  your  faith  may  be  shaken." 

"  No  —  no  —  no  !  "  Mrs.  Ellis  flung  back, 
almost  indignantly,  the  suggestion.  "  My  faith 
cannot  be  shaken.  Has  my  head  rested  so  long 
against  this  heart  that  I  should  not  know  it? 
You  are  innocent !  " 

"In  just  so  far  as  I  have  said,  Margaret.  But, 
if  destruction  had  not  preceded  my  ready  hand, 
the  guilt  of  an  awful  deed  would  have  been  on 
my  head.  I  was,  for  the  time,  no  longer  my- 


108        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

self,  Margaret.  An  evil  spirit  had  taken  pos 
session  of  my  will,  and  was  driving  me  on  to 
ruin.  A  few  minutes,  and  I  would  have  been 
lost.  But  my  soul  is  yet  safe.  I  can  and  do 
repent  of  the  wicked  purpose  that  was  in  my 
heart.  I  loathe  it !  I  abhor  it !  Rather  than 
have  that  sin  fixed  on  my  conscience,  I  would 
accept  of  death  in  any  shape." 

Both  started  and  listened,  and  the  faces  of 
both  grew  paler.  The  sound  of  coming  feet 
had  reached  their  ears.  A  few  moments  of 
suspense,  and  then  a  hand  was  laid  on  the  door. 
It  was  fastened;  but  Mr.  Ellis  walked  firmly 
across  the  room,  and  drew  back  the  bolt.  Three 
men  entered,  one  of  them  a  county  constable. 
The  latter,  placing  a  hand  on  Mr.  Ellis,  said, 
sternly,  — 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,  sir  !  " 

«  On  what  charge  ?  "  Mr.  Ellis  did  not  falter 
in  the  least. 

"On  the  charge  of  setting  fire  to  Wheeler's 
mill,"  answered  the  constable. 

"  Of  which  I  am  innocent."  The  prisoner 
spoke  in  a  firm  voice,  and  looked  into  the 


NOT     ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.         1Q9 

officer's  face  with  so  steady  an  eye  that  the 
latter  dropped  his  gaze. 

"No  man  will  be  gladder  than  I  when  your 
innocence  is  made  clear,"  said  £he  constable. 
"But  my  duty  is  to  make  the  arrest." 

"  He  is  innocent ! "  The  white  lips  of  Mrs. 
Ellis  bore  this  testimony.  Then,  as  she  came 
to  her  husband's  side,  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
him,  she  said,  — 

"  Go,  Thomas !  He  who  knows  your  inno 
cence  will  make  it  appear.  Man's  extremity  is 
His  opportunity.  It  has  been  growing  darker 
and  darker  with  us  for  some  time,  and  now  it 
is  midnight.  But  the  day  will  come.  Even 
now  it  may  be  nearer  at  hand  than  you  or  I 
imagine." 

She  kissed  him  very  tenderly,  and  then  laid 
her  head  for  a  few  moments  on  his  bosom.  All 
hearts  were  touched.  There  were  unbidden 
tears  in  the  eyes  of  strong  men. 

"Go,  my  husband."  Mrs.  Ellis  stood  up, 
strangely  calm,  in  this  trying  moment.  "Go, 
but  fear  not.  A  just  God  has  you  in  his 
keeping." 


HO       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

And  there  they  parted  —  he  going  forth  into 
the  dark  night  a  prisoner,  charged  with  a  great 
crime,  and  she  sitting  down  in  the  shadow  of 
an  impending  calamity  of  such  fearful  mag 
nitude  that  no  hope  was  left  but  in  God. 
Stunned  and  despairing,  Mr.  Ellis  spent  the 
hours  until  morning  in  the  narrow  boundaries 
of  a  cell.  On  bended  knees,  in  tearful  sup 
plication,  the  same  hours  were  passed  by  his 
heart-stricken  wife.  The  gray  dawn  found 
them  both  asleep  —  he  on  a  prison-bed,  and 
she  bowed  in  the  attitude  of  prayer. 

At  the  preliminary  examination,  held  before 
a  magistrate  on  the  next  day,  Porterfield  and 
others  testified  to  remarks  of  a  threatening 
character,  as  used  by  Mr.  Ellis  in  regard  to 
Adam  Wheeler,  one  of  the  witnesses  declaring 
on  oath  that  the  prisoner  had,  in  his  hearing, 
sworn  vengeance  against  the  latter,  at  the  same 
time  indicating  fire  as  the  means.  The  person 
who  saw  Ellis  near  the  mill,  as  he  ran  down  to 
the  bank  of  the  stream,  could  not  swear  posi 
tively  to  his  identity ;  but  his  evidence  was 
given  in  a  way  to  strengthen  suspicion.  Porter- 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 


field's  statement  about  meeting  Mr.  Ellis  emer 
ging  from  a  woods  on  the  side  of  the  creek 
opposite  to  that  on  which  he  lived,  after  the 
fire  was  some  time  in  progress,  with  his  unsat 
isfactory  answers  on  being  questioned,  were  so 
strong  against  him  in  the  chain  of  evidence 
brought,  that  he  was  remanded  to  prison.  Here 
he  lay,  bail  being  refused  in  consequence  of  the 
capital  nature  of  the  crime  charged,  for  three 
weeks,  or  until  the  next  session  of  the  grand 
jury,  when  a  true  bill  was  found  against  him 
for  arson,  and  also  for  murder,  in  causing  the 
death  of  Adam  Wheeler.  The  criminal  court 
being  in  session,  the  trial  came  on  almost  im 
mediately. 

Two  parties,  strongly  prejudging  the  case, 
were  soon  formed  in  the  neighborhood,  the  one 
for  and  the  other  against  the  prisoner.  Of 
those  most  active  and  bitter  against  Ellis  was 
the  Scotchman,,  Archibald  Wing,  who  set  him 
self  to  hunt  up  evidence  with  the  keen  scent  of 
a  bloodhound.  Leading  the  opposition,  and  in 
favor  of  Ellis,  was  Harvey  Tompkins,  the  man 
from  whom  Wheeler  had  bought  the  fifty,  acres 


112        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

of  ground  lying  on  each  side  of  the  stream,  at 
the  point  where  the  new  bridge  was  located. 
The  disgrace  of  her  husband's  position,  and 
the  fearful  calamity  that  impended,  instead  of 
paralyzing  the  energies  of  Mrs.  Ellis,  devel 
oped  latent  resources  that  surprised  her  friends. 
She  thought  only  of  her  husband's  vindication 

and  safety,  and  to  this  end  bent  all  the  powers 

x 

of  her  mind.  There  dwelt  with  her  no  shadow 
of  doubt  touching  his  entire  innocence  of  the 
crime  with  which  he  stood  accused.  Assuming 
this,  the  difficult  thing,  in  the  face  of  so  many 
circumstances  that  pointed  to  him  as  an  incen 
diary,  was  to  discover  the  actual  cause  of  the 
fire,  and  the  true  criminal,  if  the  fire  were  not 
accidental.  She  did  not  waver  in  her  belief 
that  her  husband's  entire  innocence  would  be 
come  manifest. 

While  many  sympathized  with  Mrs.  Ellis, 
few  gave  her  encouragement.  Even  those  wTho 
doubted  her  husband's  guilt  saw  little  chance 
for  his  escape  from  conviction.  In  the .  brief 
period  that  elapsed  from  the  time  the  grand 
jury  found  a  bill  of  indictment  until  the  day 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.   H3 

of  trial,  no  facts  came  to  light  on  which  any 
sure  defence  of  the  case  could  be  made.  This 
circumstance  alone  stood  out  from  the  blank 
obscurity :  A  stranger  had  called  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Tompkins  on  the  night  of  the  fire,  and 
asked  for  food,  on  receiving  which  he  further 
asked  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in  the  barn.  To 
this  request  a  negative  was  given,  it  not  being 
considered  safe,  one  or  two  fires  having  been 
occasioned  in  the  neighborhood  during  the  year, 
through  the  carelessness  of  strollers  in  using 

O  O 

pipes  or  cigars.  The  man  grumbled,  and  went 
on  his  way.  A  neighbor,  living  between  the 
house  of  Mr.  Tompkins  and  Wheeler's  mill, 
very  well  remembered  seeing  a  man  go  along 
the  road,  on  the  same  night,  in  the  direction  of 
the  mill,  smoking.  Passing  near  him  in  the 
road,  he  saw  that  he  was  a  stranger,  and  set  him 
down,  at  the  time,  as  a  "tramp."  This  was  all. 
No  other  persons  remembered  having  seen  this 
man. 

The  day  of  trial   came,   and  the  prosecuting 
attorney  set  forth,  in  opening  the  case,  the  fac 
which  he  said  they  were  prepared,  by  competent 


114       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

witnesses,  to  prove.  The  heart  of  Mrs.  Ellis 
scarcely  moved  during  the  fearful  recital,  and 
her  blood  seemed  like  ice  in  her  veins.  Then 
witnesses  commenced  giving  in  their  testimony, 
and  circumstance  after  circumstance  was  brought 
forth,  one  after  another,  each  arranging  itself  as 
a  new  link  in  the  evidence,  until  a  chain  of  facts, 
one  binding  the  other,  held  the  accused  in  a 
dreadful  bondage  to  apparent  guilt  that  seemed 
impossible  to  be  broken.  Friends  grew  sad  and 
pale  ;  and  even  the  judges*  eyes  turned,  grieving, 
away  from  the  wife's  ashen  face,  as  she  sat  near 
her  husband,  and  leaning  towards  him.  If 
others'  faith  in  him  wavered,  hers  did  not. 

After  the  testimony  for  the  state  had  closed, 
Mr.  Tompkins  was  called  for  the  defence.  He 
could  bear  clear  testimony  to  the  previous  good 
character  of  the  accused ;  but  what  of  that,  in 
the  face  of  so  many  condemning  circumstances? 
No  impression  was  made  on  the  jury.  Then  he 
related  the  incident  of  the  strange  man  who  had 
asked  for  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in  his  barn, 
and  who  was  afterwards  seen  going  towards  the 
mill  with  a  lighted  pipe  in  his  mouth.  This  last 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.        H5 

fact  was  corroborated  by  another  witness ;  but 
it  proved  nothing.  Then  neighbor  after  neigh 
bor  took  the  witness-stand,  and  under  the  care 
fully-directed  questions  of  Mr.  Ellis's  counsel, 
gave  the  strongest  kind  of  evidence  touching 
the  social  and  moral  qualities  of  the  accused. 
He  was  just,  humane,  law-abiding.  In  the 
whole  community,  no  man  had  shown  himself  a 
better  citizen.  He  had  stood  among  the  people 
blameless,  suffering,  yet  not  doing  wrong.  But 
nothing  was  offered  that  gave  any  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  circumstances  on  which  the 
prosecution  rested  for  conviction.  There  were 
threats  proved,  and  absence  from  home  at  or 
near  the  time  when  the  fire  broke  out.  A  man 
was  seen  escaping  out  of  the  circle  of  light 
thrown  from  the  burning  mill,  and  Mr.  Ellis 
appeared  a  little  while  afterwards,  emerging 
from  the  woods  into  which  the  man  had  dis 
appeared.  As  those  woods  lay  on  the  opposite 
side  from  Mr.  Ellis's  dwelling,  the  circumstance 
was  strongly  against  him.  Mr.  Porterfield  tes- 
tified  to  the  prisoner's  confusion  of  manner  on 
meeting  him,  and  to  the  improbable  reason 


116       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

assigned  for  bis  presence  in  that  particular  loca 
tion. 

The  case  being  closed  on  both  sides,  counsel 
for  the  state  commenced  summing  up  the  facts 
which  appeared  in  evidence,  setting  forth,  in  a 
strong  light,  their  character  as  conclusive  touch 
ing  the  prisoner's  guilt.  As  he  progressed,  all 
saw  the  hopelessness  of  Mr.  Ellis's  cause,  and 
even  those  who  had,  up  till  this  time,  held  fast 
to  their  faith  in  his  innocence,  now  wavered, 
while  some  gave  him  up  as  guilty.  On  closing 
in  a  powerful  appeal  to  the  jury,  that  sounded 
like  a  knell  of  despair,  Mrs.  Ellis  gave  a  low 
cry  of  anguish,  that  thrilled  through  the  hushed 
court-room,  and,  sinking  forward,  Avas  caught 
in  the  arms  of  her  husband,  by  whose  side  she 
had  remained  sitting  during  all  of  this  fearful 
trial. 

Then  a  stillness  as  of  death  reigned  through 
the  crowded  audience.  The  prosecutor  sat 
down,  a  shadow  of  pain  gradually  displacing 

the  flush  of  enthusiasm  with  which  professional 

f 
ardor  had  lighted  up  his  face.     In  this  pause  the 

lawyer  for  the  defence  was  about  rising,  when 


NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE.        H7 

• 
a  man  of  poor  appearance  stood  suddenly  forth, 

separating  himself  from  the  crowd,  and  advan 
cing  within  the  bar.  In  a  quick,  agitated  voice, 
he  addressed  the  judges,  pointing  at  the  same 
time  to  the  prisoner.  His  words  were,  — 

"If  there  is  guilt  anywhere,  your  honors,  it 
rests  not  with  him  !  I  am  the  man  referred  to 
by  witnesses  as  having  been  seen  going  towards 
the  mill ;  and  the  mill  was  burned  through  my 
carelessness.  I  crept  in  at  an  open  window,  and 
lay  down  on  some  shavings  under  a  work-bench, 
where  I  fell  asleep.  I  don't  know  how  long  I 
slept ;  but,  on  waking,  I  lighted  a  pipe,  and  in 
doing  so  dropped  a  match  among  the  shavings, 
which  caught  instantly.  In  trying  to  put  out 
the  fire,  I  scattered  the  burning  shavings  around, 
and  spread  the  flames  so  that  I  could  not  extin 
guish  them.  Alarmed  at  what  I  had  done,  I 
escaped  from  the  mill,  and  fled  away  in  the 
darkness,  not  stopping  until  I  was  miles  distant. 
I  knew  by  the  great  light  in  the  sky  above  where 
the  mill  stood  that  it  was  all  in  flames,  and 
would  be  consumed,  but  I  did  not  know  for 
days  afterwards  that  a  life  had  been  lost.  Fear 


-     118        N0T    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

kept  me  pressing  onward,  and  in  a  week  I  was 
nearly  a  hundred  miles  away  from  this  place.  I 
have  returned  because  an  innocent  man  is  in 
danger.  If  punishment  must  fall  upon  any  one, 
let  it  fall  on  me." 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  stood  bending  for 
ward  towards  the  judges.  Mrs.  Ellis,  who  had 
sunk  down  under  the  pressure  of  a  suddenly 
overwhelming  despair  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
prosecuting  attorney's  speech,  started  up  like 
one  awakened  from  a  dream  when  this  unlooked- 
for  witness  commenced  giving  in  his  testimony. 
The  death-like  paleness  of  her  face  changed  as 
the  man  proceeded,  until  its  ashen  hue  was  lost 
in  the  flush  of  a  new-springing  hope. 

"I  said  he  was  innocent,  and  here  is  the  proof! 
Thank  God  !  —  thank  God  !  " 

Above  the  silence  that  succeeded  the  vindica 
tion  of  her  husband,  the  clear  voice  of  Mrs.  Ellis 
thrilled,  in  these  brief  sentences,  all  the  strained 
ears  and  oppressed  hearts  in  that  crowded  court 
room.  Upon  only  one  face  rested  doubt  and 
dissatisfaction,  and  that  was  on  the  face  of 
Archibald  Wing.  There  had  been  light  and 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.    H9 

triumph  on  it  a  little  while  before.  Rising  in 
the  pause  that  followed,  he  moved  to  where 
his  lawyer  sat,  and  bending  close  to  his  ear, 
whispered  a  few  words.  All  eyes  were  turned 
to  him,  and  all  noted  the  expression  of  his 
countenance.  Immediately  his  counsel  arose, 
and  addressing  the  court,  said,  with  some  stern 
ness  of  manner,  — 

"  This  is  irregular,  your  honors.  Will  you 
order  the  witness  to  be  sworn?" 

"The  clerk  will  swear  the  witness,"  said  the 
presiding  judge. 

The  usual  oath  was  then  administered,  and  the 
witness  placed  regularly  on  the  stand.  With  a 
clear  voice  he  repeated  his  former  statement, 
only  with  more  particularity,  yet  not  varying  in 
the  slightest  degree  from  the  main  facts  at  first 
given.  All  the  cross-questionings  of  the  prose 
cution  only  made  his  evidence  the  clearer  and 
more  coherent.  On  a  final  submission  of  the 
case,  the  jury,  without  leaving  the  box,  ren 
dered,  almost  instantly,  a  verdict  of  "  not 
guilty." 

Only   one   man   expressed    dissatisfaction,  — 


120       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

Wing,  the  Scotchman ;  and  his  language  had  in 
it  so  much  of  ill-will  towards  Mr.  Ellis,  that 
people  were  shocked  and  disgusted. 

In  the  pause  that  followed  this  agitating  trou 
ble,  with  its  sense  of  security  and  peace,  Mr. 
Ellis  folded  his  arms  and  sat  down.  So  fearful 
a  calamity  as  that  which  had  threatened  to  de 
stroy  him  utterly  being  turned  aside,  it  seemed 
to  him  for  a  little  while  as  if  he  were  in  an  ark 
of  safety.  But  his  enemy  was  Neither  sleeping 
nor  powerless.  Open  antagonism  had  produced 
undying  hate.  "Wing  had  accepted  his  destruc 
tion  as  certain,  and  enjoyed,  by  anticipation,  a 
fall  from  which  there  could  be  no  rising;  but 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  saw  the  bolt  de 
scending,  and  held  his  breath  for  the  stroke,  a 
hand  unseen  before  turned  it  aside,  and  it  fell 
harmless. 

"  He  shall  not  escape  me  so  !  "  Thus  he  spoke 
in  his  secret  thought. 

Only  a  few  dnys  elapsed  before  men  were  set 
to  work  upon  the  ruins  of  Wheeler's  mill,  and  a 
contract  entered  into  with  a  millwright  by  Wing 
for  its  reconstruction.  When  this  was  told  to 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOE  PEACE.   121 

Ellis,  the  old  trouble  came  buck  again  into  his 
heart.  The  fierce  battle  through  which  he  had 
fought  his  way  to  a  brief  peace  left  him  only 
the  more  in  love  with  peace.  "Anything  for 
peace,"  was  the  almost  despairing  cry  of  his 
heart,  as  he  saw  the  enemy  again  marshalling  his 
forces.  If  that  mill  were  suffered  to  be  rebuilt, 
nothing  could  save  him  from  the  ruin  which  had 
well  nigh  been  accomplished.  A  little  period 
of  hesitation,  a  brief  submission  to  an  oppres 
sive  sense  of  weakness,  and,  then,  nerving  him 
self  for  a  new,  and,  if  possible,  a  more  deter 
mined  struggle,  the  miller  called  to  his  aid  two 
of  the  best  lawyers  in  the  county,  and  com 
menced  the  war  with  an  injunction  to  restrain 
"VYing  from  proceeding  any  farther  in  the  work 
of  rebuilding  the  burnt  mill. 

Now  the  tide  was  turned.  Wing  had  be 
trayed  his  malignancy  at  the  trial,  and  the  eyes 
of  people  were  opened  to  see  things  in  a  differ 
ent  aspect  from  what  they  had  formerly  ap 
peared.  Ellis's  true  character  and  situation 
were  more  clearly  seen.  Many  who,  from  a 
superficial  or  prejudiced  view  of  the  case,  had 


122       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

permitted  themselves  to  espouse  the  side  of 
Wing,  were  now  satisfied  that  he  was  the  ag 
gressor  and  Ellis  the  victim.  A  new  survey  of 
the  mill-dam  was  ordered  by  the  court,  and  the 
wrong,  as  charged,  in  the  lower  level  of  Wing's 
flume,  fully  established,  and  the  Scotchman  re 
quired  to  elevate  his  flume  by  some  eight  or  ten 
inches.  Another  and  an  authoritative  reading 
was  given  to  the  contract  entered  into  by  Ellis, 
and  Wing  for  building  the  dam,  and  its  true 
intent  and  limitations  established  by  the  court, 
which  forbade  Wing,  or  any  person  acting  under 
his  authority,  using  water  for  purposes  beyond 
what  the  contract  evidently  contemplated. 

"  Peace  and  hope  at  last,"  said  the  miller,  as 
he  went  back  to  his  work  again,  with  the  pro 
tecting  and  defending  arms  of  the  law  safely 
cast  around  him,  "peace  and  hope  at  last;  but 
through  what  a  fierce  and  dangerous  conflict ! 
In  the  time  to  come,  I  will  give  no  place  to  the 
enemy,  —  admit  none  of  his  encroachments,  — 
accept  the  conflict  with  evil  when  it  first  moves 
against  me,  and  stand  by  the  right.  If  I  had 


NOT  ANYTHING  FOR  PEACE.   123 

done  this  in  the  beginning,  when  I  held  the  ad- 
vSntage  of  a  secure  position,  what  loss,  what 
trouble,  what  peril,  might  have  been  avoided ! 
It  shall  be  no  more  'Anything  for  peace,'  but 
<  Anything  for  the  right ; '  for  only  in  the  right 
is  man  assured  of  safety." 


124        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 


II. 

WISHING   AND   DOING. 

Two  little  girls,  named  Grace  and  Phoebe 
Allen,  while  on  their  way  from  school  one  after 
noon,  saw  a  baby,  not  a  year  old,  sitting  on  the 
floor  of  a  poor  woman's  cottage.  Its  mother 
was  in  the  yard,  washing,  and  the  baby  sat  all 
alone,  playing  with  some  clothes-pins  and  an  old 
broken  basket. 

"O,  the  poor  baby!"  exclaimed  Grace,  as 
they  stopped  before  the  cottage  —  hovel  were 
a  better  word,  the  place  was  so  small  and 
mean. 

The  baby  looked  up  and  smiled  as  the  children 
stood  in  the  door  and  spoke  to  it  softly  and  ten 
derly.  Out  flew  its  little  hands,  fluttering  like 
the  wings  of  a  bird,  and  its  soft  voice  cooed  and 
coaxed  to  be  taken.  But  face  and  hands  and 
clothes  were  all  so  dirty  that  neither  of  the  chil 
dren  could  take  it  in  their  arms.  But  they 


WISHING    AND    DOING.  125 

played  with  the  poor  thing  for  a  while,  and 
then  went  away,  leaving  it  crying  after  them. 

"  O,  dear !  Isn't  it  dreadful  to  see  a  dear 
baby  kept  like  that?"  said  Phoebe. 

"I  wish  it  was  a  clean,  sweet  baby.  How 
nice  it  would  be,  when  we  came  from  school 
every  afternoon,  to  stop  and  play  with  it ! " 
answered  Grace. 

"  So  do  I.  But  then  wishing  isn't  of  any  use. 
It  doesn't  give  clean  faces  and  clean  clothes.  If 
it  did,  I  know  one  thing,  there  'd  be  another 
sweet  baby  in  the  world." 

Grace  stood  still,  and  looked  quite  soberly 
at  her  sister.  A  new  thought  had  come  into 
her  mind. 

"Don't  you  remember,  Phoebe,  what  our  Sun 
day-school  teacher  told  us  about  wishing,  and 
thinking,  and  doing?"  she  asked. 

"No;  what  was  it?" 

"  She  told  us  that  there  were  three  things  in 
every  good  work — wishing,  thinking,  and  doing ; 
and  that  the  wishing  always  came  first.  Don't 
you  remember  that  papa  said  one  day,  'The 
wish  is  father  to  the  thought,'  and  we  wondered 
what  he  could  mean?" 


126        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  O,  yes  !  And  now  I  recollect  all  about  what 
our  teacher  said,"  replied  Phoebe.  "  She  told  us 
that  a  good  desire  would  always  set  us  to  think 
ing  about  how  to  do  the  thing  we  desired ; 
and  that  when  the  thought  grew  active,  it  would 
soon  find  out  the  way." 

"And  she  said,"  added  Grace,  "that  desiring 
and  thinking  were  of  no  account  unless  doing 
were  added.  And  that's  just  what  has  come 
into  my  mind  about  this  poor  baby.  You  say 
that  wishing  isn't  of  any  use.  It  doesn't  give 
clean  faces  and  clean  clothes.  But  thinking  and 
doing  may.  Let  us  think  a  little,  Phoebe.  May 
be  we  can  do  something.  Why,  the  way  is  clear 
already  ! " 

And  Grace  clapped  her  hands  together. 

"How  is  it  clear?"  asked  Phoebe. 

"Just  listen.  Mother's  got  plenty  of  old 
muslin,  and  calico,  and  linen ;  and  if  we  ask 
her,  I  know  she'll  be  glad  to  let  us  make  some 
slips  and  aprons  for  this  poor  baby.  She'll 
cut  them  out  for  us,  and  we  can  make  a  slip 
and  an  apron  this  very  afternoon  and  evening, 
after  we've  got  our  lessons.  Then  to-morrow 


WISHING    AND    DOING.  127 

we  can  come  and  wash  the  baby,  and  dress  it 
up.  O,  won't  that  be  elegant?" 

And  Grace  clapped  her  hands  again. 

"The  very  thing !"  answered  Phoebe.  "And 
it  will  be  so  nice  !  It's  a  sweet  baby,  and  when 
clean  and  dressed  up  will  be  lovely." 

So  the  good  wishes  of  the  children  had  set 
their  minds  to  thinking,  and  thinking  made  the 
way  plain  for  doing.  Their  mother  was  so  well 
pleased,  when  they  told  her  about  the  baby,  and 
what  they  wanted  to  do  for  it,  that  she  helped 
them  with  their  lessons  for  the  next  day,  and 
then  cut  out  a  slip  and  an  apron,  and  set  them 
to  work. 

"  Dear  children  !  "  said  the  mother  to  herself, 
as  she  looked  in  upon  them  every  now  and  then, 
and  watched  their  grave,  sweet  faces  and  nimble 
fingers.  "Angels  are  very  near  to  you,  my 
precious  ones ;  for  only  they  would  suggest 
such  work  as  this." 

On  the  next  day,  as  Grace  and  Phcebe  hurried 
home  from  school,  they  passed  the  mean  hovel 
where  they  had  noticed  the  baby.  The  door 
was  shut,  so  they  did  not  see  the  poor  little 


128        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR     PEACE. 

one,  but  they  heard  it  crying  sadly.  In  an 
hour  afterwards  they  came  back,  Phoebe  carry 
ing  a  clean  new  slip,  an  apron,  a  petticoat,  and 
a  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings ;  and  Grace  with 
a  basket,  in  which  were  a  bottle  of  milk  and 
some  soft  biscuits,  besides  soap,  towels,  and  a 
brush  and  comb. 

As  they  drew  near  they  again  heard  the  baby's 
wailing  cry.  On  opening  the  door  of  the  hut 
they  found  the  poor  little  thing  sitting  alone  on 
the  floor.  It  stopped  crying  the  moment  it  saw 
the  children,  and  held  out  its  tiny  hands. 

"O,  you  poor  darling!"  exclaimed  Grace,  in 
a  voice  of  pity. 

"Where's  its  mother?"  asked  Phoebe.  "She 
can't  have  left  it  shut  up  here  all  alone  ! " 

But  no  mother  was  to  be  found.  She  was 
away  at  one  of  the  neighboring  houses  at 
work. 

"What  a  busy,  bustling  time  there  was  !  Phcebe 
got  a  pail  of  water,  and  Grace  stripped  off  the 
dirty  rags  that  covered  the  baby,  and  soon  had 
its  soft  skin  white  and  clean.  Then  she  put  on 
a  little  new  shirt,  and  a  muslin  petticoat,  and  a 


WISHING    AND    DOING. 

slip  of  blue  and  white  chintz.  Stockings  and 
shoes  came  next,  and  then  the  golden  hair  was 
combed  and  curled. 

"O,  but  isn't  he  sweet?"  cried  Phoebe,  as  she 
stood  off  at  a  little  distance  and  looked  at  the 
baby,  all  dressed  so  clean  and  neat,  on  her  sis 
ter's  lap. 

How  pleased  and  happy  the  child  was  !  Ever 
since  he  could  know  anything  he  had  suffered 
from  neglect.  Such  tender  interest,  such  lovin^ 

o  »  o 

tones  and  words  —  they  were  strange  as  new, 
and  very  sweet  and  comforting. 

A  carriage  containing  a  lady,  young  and 
beautiful,  but  with  a  pale,  sad  face,  drew 
near. 

"  O,  what  a  dear  babe  !  "  said  the  lady,  as  the 
carriage  stopped.  Grace  and  Phosbe  had  brought 
him  to  the  door.  She  held  out  her  arms,  and 
the  children  let  her  take  the  baby  into  the  car 
riage. 

"  Sweet !      Sweet !      O,  such  a  darling  sweet 

one  !  "  cried  the  lady,   almost  wildly,  yet  with 

deep  tenderness  in  her  voice ;  and  she  hugged 

it   closely  to  her  bosom.     "I  had  just  such  se 

9 


130       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

baby,"  she  said,  "but  he  left  me  and  went  to 
heaven."  And  then  her  eyes  got  full  of  tears. 

"Whose  is  it?"  she  asked,  still  holding  him 
in  her  arms. 

Then  Grace  and  Phoebe  told  her  all  about  his 
sad  and  neglected  life,  and  what  they  had  done. 
And  the  lady  wept  as  she  bent  over  and  kissed 
the  baby  that  lay  very  still  against  her  bosom, 
with  his  large  brown  eyes  fixed  earnestly,  and 
with  a  kind  of  pleading  surprise,  on  her  face. 

"  There's  his  mother  now,"  Grace  spoke,  sud 
denly,  pointing  as  she  did  so  to  a  woman  with 
coarse,  hard  features  coming  down  the  road.  It 
was  too  plain  that  she  had  been  drinking.  The 
lady  waited  until  she  came  up,  and  then  said  to 
her,  in  a  kind  voice, — 

"  AfeyoiT  very  poor,  ma'am?" 

"Poor  as  poverty,"  answered  the  woman,  in  a 
blunt,  rough  way. 

"  You  have  a  baby  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  sorry  the  day  it  was  born  !  I  can't 
stay  with  it  and  starve,  nor  take  it  with  me  into 
people's  houses  when  I  go  out  to  work.  And 
so  I  have  to  leave  it  crying,  and  come  back  to  it 


WISHING    AND    DOING. 

crying ;  and  all  day  long  I  hear  it  crying,  though 
sometimes  I'm  a  mile  away.  It  wasn't  born  with 
a  silver  spoon  in  its  mouth,  like  the  pretty  baby 
in  your  arms,  ma'am." 

"What  if  I  should  offer  to  take  your  baby 
and  care  for  him  just  as  if  he  were  my  own?" 
said  the  lady. 

"I'd  say,  'Yes,  and  God  bless  you,  ma'am!' 
for  the  baby's  sake,"  answered  the  woman, 
quickly.  "He's  no  comfort  to  one  like  me, 
and  no  comfort  to  himself;  and  I  worry  all  day, 
when  I'm  out  washing  and  scrubbing,  for  fear 
something  will  happen  to  him." 

The  lady  spoke  to  the  driver,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  after  the  carriage  was  rolling  swiftly 
away. 

"  No  such  good  luck  for  baby  or  me !  "•  ex 
claimed  the  woman,  in  a  half  angry,  disap 
pointed  voice. 

"It  was  your  baby  in  the  carriage,"  said 
Grace. 

"My  baby!"  There  came  a  sudden,  wild, 
flashing  light  into  the  woman's  eyes,  and  the 
children  saw  that  she  trembled  all  over.  For 


132       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

a  little  while  she  stood  looking  after  the  car 
riage  ;  then  she  ran  into  her  cottage.  All  was 
at  once  plain  to  her;  for  there  were  the  old 
dirty  rags  of  her  child,  and  the  pail  of  water, 
and  towels,  and  brush,  by  means  of  which  he 
had  been  transformed  from  an  object  of  loathing 
to  one  of  beauty. 

"  Children  ! "  said  the  woman,  in  so  stern  a 
voice  that  they  grew  frightened,  "  is  it  true  what 
you  say  ?  Was  that  my  baby  in  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  It  was  your  baby,"  they  answered.  "  We 
had  washed  and  dressed  him  all  up  so  sweetly ; 
and  just  then  the  lady  came  along,  and  took 
him  iu  her  arms,  and  cried  over  him,  and  said 
she  had  a  dear  baby  like  him  in  heaven." 

The  woman  put  both  hands  over  her  face,  and, 
sitting  down,  sobbed  and  moaned  for  a  good 
while.  The  children  stood  looking  on,  not 
knowing  what  to  do  or  say.  At  last  she  got 
up,  and  went  about  her  miserable  room  in  a 
confused  manner. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  all  a  dream !  "  she  said, 
stopping  before  the  children.  "  What  did  you 
say?  It  was  my  baby  dressed  up  so  fine,  and 
sitting  in  the  lady's  lap  ?  " 


WISHING    AND    DOING.  133 

"It  was  your  baby,"  they  said  again. 

"I'm  thankful  for  the  baby's  sake,"  she  mur 
mured,  in  a  low  voice,  half  broken  by  a  sob. 
"  She'll  be  kind  to  it,  I  know  by  her  looks." 

Then  the  children  went  home,  and  told  their 
wondering  mother  all  that  had  happened.  On 
the  next  morning,  -as  they  passed  the  poor 
hovel  on  their  way  to  school,  it  was  shut ;  and 
so  it  remained  day  after  day.  They  never  saw 
the  poor  woman  again.  She  had  gone  out  of 
the  neighborhood.  Six  months  afterwards  she 
died  in  an  almshouse.  But  the  child  had  love 
and  tender  care,  and  all  the  pure  joys  of  baby 
hood  in  a  new  and  happy  home. 


134       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 


III. 

KILLING  AN  ENEMY. 

"  THAT  man  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet,"  said 
Paul  Levering. 

He  looked  worried,  but  not  angry. 

"  Thee  means  Dick  Hardy? " 

"Yes." 

"  What  has  he  been  doing  to  thee  now  ?  " 

The  questioner  was  a  Friend,  named  Isaac 
Martin  —  a  neighbor. 

"He's  always  doing  something,  friend  Martin. 
Scarcely  a  day  passes  that  I  don't  have  complaint 
of  him.  Yesterday  one  of  the  boys  came  and 
told  me  that  he  saw  him  throw  a  stone  at  my 
new  Durham  cow,  and  strike  her  in  the  head." 

"  That's  very  bad,  friend  Levering.  Does 
thee  know  why  he  did  this?  Was  thy  Dur 
ham  trespassing  on  his  grounds?" 

"  No,  she  was  only  looking  over  his  fence.  He 
has  a  spite  against  me  and  mine,  and  does  all  he 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY.  135 

can  to  injure  me.  You  know  the  fine  Bartlett 
pear  tree,  that  stands  in  the  corner  of  my  lot 
adjoining  his  property?" 

"Yes." 

"  Two  large  limbs,  full  of  fruit,  stretched  over 
on  his  side.  You  would  hardly  believe  it,  but 
it's  true.  I  was  out  there  just  now,  and  discov 
ered  that  he  had  sawed  oif  these  two  fine  limbs 
that  hung  over  on  his  side.  They  lay  down  upon 
the  ground,  and  his  pigs  were  eating  the  fruit." 

"  Why  is  Dick  so  spiteful  to  thee,  friend  Lev 
ering?  He  doesn't  annoy  me.  What  has  thee 
done  to  him  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  any  consequence." 

"  Thee  must  have  done  something.  Try  and 
remember." 

"  I  know  what  first  set  him  out.  I  kicked  an 
ugly  dog  of  his  once.  The  beast,  half  starved 
at  home,  I  suppose,  was  all  the  while  prowling 
about  here,  and  snatching  up  everything  that 
came  in  his  way.  One  day  I  came  upon  him 
suddenly,  and  gave  him  a  tremendous  kick  that 
sent  him  howling  through  the  <?ate.  Unfortu- 

o  o  o 

nately,   as  it  has  turned  out,   the  dog's  master 


136       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

happened  to  be  passing  along  the  road.  The 
way  he  swore  at  me  was  dreadful.  I  never  saw 
a  more  vindictive  face.  On  the  next  morning,  a 
splendid  Newfoundland,  that  I  had  raised  from  a 
pup,  met  me  shivering  at  the  door,  with  his  tail 
cut  off !  I  don't  know  when  I  have  felt  so  badly. 
Poor  fellow !  his  piteous  look  haunts  me  now. 
I  had  no  proof  against  Dick,  but  have  never 
doubted  as  to  his  agency  in  the  matter.  In  my 
grief  and  indignation  I  shot  the  dog,  and  so  put 
him  out  of  my  sight." 

"Thee  was  hasty  in  that,  friend  Levering," 
said  the  Quaker. 

"Perhaps  I  was,  though  I  have  never  repented 
the  act.  I  met  Dick  a  few  days  afterwards. 
The  grin  of  satisfaction  on  his  face  I  accepted 
as  an  acknowledgment  of  his  mean  and  cruel 
revenge.  Within  a  week  from  that  time  one  of 
my  cows  had  a  horn  knocked  off." 

"What  did  thee  do?" 

"  I  went  to  Dick  Hardy,  and  gave  him  a  piece 
of  my  mind." 

"  That  is,  thee  scolded,  and  called  hard  names, 
and  threatened." 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY.  137 

"Yes  —  just  so,  friend  Martin." 

"  Did  any  good  come  of  it  ?  " 

"  About  as  much  good  as  if  I  had  whistled  to 
the  wind." 

"  How  has  it  been  since  ?  " 

"No  change  for  the  better.  It  grows,  if  any 
thing,  worse  and  worse.  Dick  never  gets  weary 
of  annoying  me." 

"  Has  thee  ever  tried  the  law  with  him,  friend 
Levering?  The  law  should  protect  thee." 

"O,  yes,  I've  tried  the  law.  Once  he  ran  his 
heavy  wagon  against  my  carriage,  purposely, 
and  upset  me  in  the  road.  I  made  a  narrow 
escape  of  my  life.  The  carriage  was  so  badly 
broken  that  it  cost  me  fifty  dollars  for  repairs. 
A  neighbor  saw  the  whole  thing,  and  said  it 
was  plainly  intended  by  Dick.  So  I  sent  him 
the  carriage  maker's  bill,  at  which  he  got  into  a 
towering  passion.  Then  I  threatened  him  with 
prosecution,  and  he  laughed  in  my  face  malig 
nantly.  I  felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  act 
decisively,  and  sued  him,  relying  on  the  evidence 
of  my  neighbor  who  had  seen  the  affair .  But 
my  neighbor  was  afraid  of  Dick,  and  so  worked 


138        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

his  testimony  that  the  jury  saw  only  an  accident 
instead  of  a  purpose  to  injure,  and  gave  their 
verdict  accordingly.  After  that  Dick  Hardy 
was  worse  than  ever.  He  took  an  evil  delight 
in  annoying  and  injuring  me.  I  am  satisfied 
that  in  more  than  one  instance  he  left  gaps  in 
his  fences  in  order  to  entice  my  cattle  into  his 
fields,  that  he  might  set  his  savage  dogs  on  them, 
and  hurt  them  with  stones.  It  is  more  than  a 
child  of  mine  dares  to  cross  his  premises.  Only 
last  week  he  tried  to  put  his  dog  on  rny  little 
Florence,  who  strayed  into  one  of  his  fields  after 
buttercups.  The  dog  was  less  cruel  than  his 
master,  or  she  would  have  been  torn  by  his  teeth, 
instead  of  being  only  frightened  by  his  bark." 

"It's  a  hard  case,  truly,  friend  Levering. 
Our  neighbor  Hardy  seems  possessed  of  an  evil 
spirit." 

"The  very  spirit  of  the  devil,"  was  answered, 
with  feeling. 

"  He's  thy  enemy,  assuredly ;  and  if  thee 
doesn't  get  rid  of  him,  will  do  thee  greater 
harm." 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  him." 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY.  139 

"Thee  must,  if  thee  would  dwell  in  safety, 
friend  Levering." 

The  Quaker's  face  was  growing  very  serious. 
He  spoke  in  a  lowered  voice,  and  bent  towards 
his  neighbor  in  a  confidential  manner. 

"  Thee  must  put  him  out  of  the  way." 

"  Friend  Martin  I "  The  surprise  of  Paul 
Levering  was  unfeigned. 

«  Thee  must  kill  him  I  " 

The  countenance  of  Levering  grew  blank  with 
astonishment. 

"  Kill  him  !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"If  thee  doesn't  kill  him,  he'll  certainly  kill 
thce,  one  of  these  days,  friend  Levering.  And 
thee  knows  what  is  said  about  self-preservation 
being  the  first  law  of  nature." 

"  And  get  hung  !  " 

"I  don't  think  they'll  hang  thee,"  coolly  re 
turned  the  Quaker.  "  Thee  can  go  over  to  his 
place,  and  get  him  all  alone  by  thyself.  Or 
thee  can  meet  him  in  some  by-road.  Nobody 
need  see  thee ;  and  when  he's  dead,  /  think 
people  will  be  more  glad  than  sorry.  Thee 
needn't  fear  any  bad  consequences." 


140        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  no  better  than  a  murder 
er  ? "  Levering's  astonishment  passed  to  horror 
and  indignation.  "I,  Paul  Levering,  stain  my 
hands  with  blood?" 

"  Who  said  anything  about  staining  thy  hands 
with  blood?"  The  Quaker  was  imperturbable. 

«  Why,  you  ! " 

"Thee's  mistaken.  I  never  used  the  word 
blood." 

"  But  you  meant  it.     You  suggested  murder." 

"  No,  friend  Levering.  I  advised  thee  to  kill 
the  enemy,  lest,  some  day,  he  should  kill  thee." 

"  Isn't  killing  murder,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 
demanded  Levering. 

"  There  are  more  ways  to  kill  an  enemy  than 
one,"  said  the  Quaker.  "I've  killed  a  good 
many  in  my  time,  but  no  stain  of  blood  can  be 
found  on  my  garments.  My  way  of  killing 
enemies  is  to  make  them  my  friends.  Kill 
neighbor  Hardy  with  kindness,  and  thee'll  have 
no  more  trouble  with  him." 

A  sudden  light  gleamed  over  Mr.  Levering's 
face,  as  if  a  cloud  had  passed  from  the  sun  of 
his  spirit. 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY. 

"  A  new  way  to  kill  people." 

"The  surest  way  to  kill  enemies,  as  thee'll 
find,  if  thee'll  only  try." 

"Let  me  see.  How  shall  I  go  about  it?"  said 
Paul  Levering,  taken  at  once  with  the  idea. 

"  If  thee  has  the  will,  friend  Levering,  it  will 
not  be  long  before  thee  finds  the  way." 

And  so  it  proved.  Not  two  hours  afterwards, 
as  Mr.  Levering  was  driving  into  the  village,  he 
found  Dick  Hardy  with  a  stalled  cart-load  of 
stone.  He  was  whipping  his  horse,  and  swear 
ing  at  him  passionately ;  but  to  no  good  pur 
pose.  The  cart-wheels  were  buried  half  way  to 
the  axle  in  stiff  mud,  and  defied  the  strength  of 
one  horse  to  move  them.  On  seeing  Mr.  Lever 
ing,  Dick  stopped  pulling  and  swearing;  and 
getting  on  to  the  cart,  with  his  back  towards 
his  neighbor,  commenced  pitching  the  stones 
off  into  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"Hold  on  a  bit,  friend  Hardy,"  said  Levering, 
in  a  pleasant  voice,  as  he  dismounted,  and  com 
menced  unhitching  his  horse. 

But  Dick,  pretending  not  to  hear  him,  kept 
on  pitching  out  the  stones. 


142       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"  Hold  on,  I  say,  and  don't  give  yourself  all 
that  trouble,"  added  Mr.  Levering,  speaking  in 
a  louder  voice,  but  in  kind  and  cheerful  tones. 
"  Two  horses  are  better  than  one.  With  Char 
ley's  help,  we'll  soon  have  the  wheels  on  good 
solid  ground  again." 

Understanding  now  what  was  meant,  Dick's 
hands  fell  almost  nerveless  by  his  side. 

"There,"  said  Levering,  as  he  put  his  horse 
in  front  of  Dick's,  and  made  the  traces  fast, 
"one  pull,  and  the  thing's  done!" 

And  before  Dick  could  get  down  from  the 
cart,  it  was  out  of  the  mud  hole. 

Without  saying  a  word  more,  Levering  un 
fastened  his  horse  from  the  front  of  Dick's 
animal,  and,  hitching  up  again,  rode  on. 

On  the  next  day  Mr.  Levering  saw  Dick 
Hardy  in  the  act  of  strengthening  a  bit  of 
weak  fence  through  which  his  (Levcring's) 
cattle  had  broken  once  or  twice ;  thus  remov 
ing  a  temptation,  and  saving  the  .animals  from 
being  beaten  and  set  on  by  dogs. 

"Thee's  given  him  a  bad  wound,  friend  Lev 
ering,"  said  the  Quaker,  on  getting  information 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY.  143 

of  the  two  incidents  just  mentioned ;  "  and  it 
will  be  thy  own  fault  if  thee  doesn't  kill  him 
outright." 

Not  long  afterwards,  in  the  face  of  an  ap 
proaching  storm,  and  while  Dick  Hardy  was 
hurrying  to  get  in  some  clover  hay,  his  wagon 
broke  down.  Mr.  Levering,  who  saw  from  one 
of  his  fields  the  accident,  and  understood  what 
loss  it  might  occasion,  hitched  up  his  own 
wagon,  and  sent  it  over  to  Dick's  assistance. 
With  a  storm  coming  on  that  might  last  for 
days,  and  ruin  from  two  to  three  tons  of  hay, 
Dick  could  not  decline  the  offer,  though  it  went 
terribly  against  the  grain  to  accept  a  favor  from 
the  man  he  had  hated  for  years,  and  injured  in 
so  many  ways. 

On  the  following  morning  Mr.  Levering  had 
a  visit  from  Dick  Hardy.  It  was  raining 
fast. 

"I've  come,"  said  Dick,  stammering  and  con 
fused,  and  looking  down  at  the  ground  instead 
of  into  Mr.  Levcring's  face,  "  to  pay  you  for 
the  use  of  your  team  yesterday  in  getting  in 
my  hay.  I  should  have  lost  it  if  you  hadn't  sent 


144        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

your  wagon,  and  it's  only  right  that  I  should  pay 
for  the  use  of  it." 

"I  should  be  very  sorry,"  answered  Paul  Lev 
ering,  cheerily,  "if  I  couldn't  do  a  neighborly 
turn  without  pay.  You  were  right  welcome, 
friend  Hardy,  to  the  wagon.  I  am  more  than 
paid  in  knowing  that  you  saved  that  nice  field 
of  clover.  How  much  did  you  get?" 

"About  three  tons.  But,  Mr.  Levering,  I 
must  —  " 

"Not  a  word,  if  you  don't  want  to  offend  me," 
interposed  Levering.  "I  trust  there  isn't  a  .man 
around  here  that  wouldn't  do  as  much  for  a 
neighbor  in  time  of  need.  Still,  if  you  feel 
embarrassed  —  if  you  don't  wish  to  stand  my 
debtor  —  pay  me  in  good  will." 

Dick  Hardy  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground 
slowly,  and  looked,  in  a  strange,  wondering  way, 
at  Mr.  Levering. 

"  Shall  we  not  be  friends  ? "  Mr.  Levering 
reached  out  his  hand.  Hardy  grasped  it  with 
a  quick,  short  grip ;  then,  as  if  to  hide  feel 
ings  that  were  becoming  too  strong,  dropped  it, 
and  went  off  hastily. 


KILLING    AN    ENEMY.  145 

"  Thee's  killed  him  ! "  said  the  Quaker,  on  his 
next  meeting  with  Levering ;  "  thy  enemy  is 
dead  ! " 

"  Slain  by  the  weapons  of  kindness,"  answered 
Paul  Levering,  "  which  you  supplied." 

"No,  thee  took  them  from  God's  armory, 
where  all  men  may  equip  themselves  without 
charge,  and  become  invincible,"  replied  the 
Quaker.  "And  I  trust,  for  thy  own  peace 
and  safety,  thee  will  never  use  any  other 
weapons  in  fighting  with  thy  neighbors.  They 
are  sure  to  kill." 

10 


146        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 


IV., 

THE  BARGAINS. 

«  JAMES  ! " 

«  Sir." 

«  To-morrow  is  going  to  be  a  hard  day  with 
me.  I  shall  have  to  pay  about  three  thousand 
dollars  in  bank,  besides  a  good  deal  of  bor 
rowed  money.  It  will  be  necessary  for  you  to 
sell  as  many  goods  as  possible." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Sell  at  a  profit,  if  you  can.  But  sell,  any 
how." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  storekeeper  remained  for  some  moments 
silent,  and  then  said, — 

"  Even  if  you  have  to  take  less  than  cost,  sell. 
It  will  be  much  better  than  paying  two  per  cent. 
a  month." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Further  instructions  were  prevented  by  the 
entrance  of  a  customer. 


THE    BARGAINS.  147 

"Let  me  look  at  some  of  your  thread  lace, 
sir,"  said  the  lady,  addressing  the  clerk,  and 
seating  herself,  at  the  same  time,  quite  leisurely 
by  the  side  of  the  counter. 

A  box  of  laces  was  handed  down  briskly, 
the  cover  removed,  and  some  twenty  or  thirty 
pieces,  of  all  prices,  patterns,  and  qualities,  dis 
played  to  the  eyes  of  the  customer. 

"A  beautiful  article,"  the  clerk  remarked,  lift 
ing  a  piece.  "  We  have  the  best  assortment  in 
the  city." 

"Very  pretty,"  the  lady  said,  musingly,  pro 
ceeding  to  examine  piece  after  piece,  until  she 
had  gone  entirely  through  the  box. 

"Have  you  no  other?"  she  then  asked,  with 
a  smile  and  a  bow,  looking  up  innocently  into 
the  face  of  the  clerk,  who  had  stood  patiently 
awaiting  her  selection  from  the  very  choice  pat 
terns  before  her. 

"None,  except  of  a  very  inferior  quality,  Mrs. 
Shannon." 

"  Let  me  look  at  them,  if  you  please." 

Another  box  was  taken  down,  and  a  great 
portion  of  its  contents  turned  out  upon  the 


148        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

counter,  when  Mrs.  Shannon  discovered  that 
none  of  the  patterns  in  either  box  pleased  her. 

"They  are  very  beautiful,  Mrs.  Shannon,  and 
we  will  sell  low,"  said  the  storekeeper,  now  com 
ing  forward.  "I  am  sure  you  will  not  meet  with 
a  finer  assortment  anywhere." 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Bradley,  but  I  think  Dra 
per  and  Cordovan  have  a  much  better  assort 
ment.  What  do  you  ask  for  this?"  lifting,  as 
she  spoke,  with  a  careless,  indifferent  air,  a 
piece  of  lace  of  exquisite  fineness. 

"That  is  four  dollars  a  yard,  Mrs.  Shannon. 
And  it  is  very  cheap  at  that,  I  do  assure  you." 

"O,  dear,  no,  Mr.  Bradley  !  I  saw  a  piece  at 
Griffith's  much  finer  for  three  dollars." 

"You  must  have  mistaken  the  quality,  ma'am. 
We  bought  our  laces  at  the  same  house  in  ISTc\v 
York,  and  paid  the  same  prices.  Now  this  arti 
cle  cost  me  every  cent  of  three  dollars  and  three 
quarters  a  yard  by  the  piece.  I  have  asked  you 
only  enough  to  cover  the  cost  and  charges,  be 
cause  I  am  anxious  to  sell.  These  are  close 
times,  ma'am,  and  we  are  all  anxious  to  turn 
our  .goods  into  money  as  quickly  as  possible." 


THE    BARGAINS.  149 

And  Mr.  Bradley  attempted  to  smile  with  a 
pleasant  air,  but  the  effort  was  a  failure.  The 
customer's  quick  eye  detected  the  counterfeit, 
and  readily  took  her  cue.  Shaking  her  head 
with  a  knowing  air,  she  replied,  — 

"It's  no  use  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Bradley,  that  I 
don't  know  the  quality  of  a  piece  of  lace.  I 
have  seen  too  much  in  my  time.  Griffith's  piece 
of  lace  at  three  dollars  I  would  just  as  soon 
have  as  this." 

The  storekeeper  stood  musing  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  then  said,  — 

"  How  much  of  it  did  you  want,  ma'am  ! " 

"  Only  a  few  yards,  sir." 

"But  how  many,  Mrs.  Shannon?" 

"  O,  some  five  or  six  yards." 

"  If  you  will  take  six  yards,  }^ou  shall  have  it 
for  three  dollars  and  a  half,  and  that  is  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  less  than  it  cost  me." 

The  customer  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  sure  that  is  very  low,  ma'am." 

"  I  couldn't  pay  that  much  for  it,  Mr.  Bradley. 
It  is  not  worth  it.  Griffith's  is  only  three  dol 
lars,  and  if  there  is  any  difference,  I  like  his 
best." 


150       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  take  three  dollars,"  said  the 
storekeeper,  in  a  half  desponding  tone. 

"Well,  if  you  will  take  three  for  it,  I  might 
be  induced  to  buy  half  a  dozen  yards  or  so.  I 
don't  care  a  great  deal  abou^t,  but  am  willing 
to  give  that,  and  no  more." 

The  storekeeper  hesitated  a  few  moments. 
"Three  times  six  are  eighteen,"  he  said  to  him 
self.  "  Eighteen  dollars  are  too  much  to  let  go 
out  of  the  store,  and  I  so  hard  run. 

"You  can  have  it,  ma'am,  though  it's  actually 
throwing  the  goods  away  !  "  he  at  length  said,  in 
a  tone  and  with  a  manner  that  showed  the  real 
reluctance  he  felt  in  sacrificing  his  goods. 

"You  can  measure  off  six  yards,  then,"  the 
customer  responded. 

The  six  yards  of  lace  were  accordingly  cut  off 
and  handed  to  Mrs.  Shannon,  with  the  stereo 
typed  question,  — 

"  Is  there  any  thing  else  that  I  can.  show  you, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"Have  you  a  handsome  assortment  of  silks?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  a  large  and  beautiful  assort 
ment.  What  color  would  you  like  ? " 


THE    BARGAINS.  151 

"Let  me  look  at  a  few  pieces.  I  have  hardly 
made  up  my  mind  yet." 

Piece  after  piece  was  now  taken  down,  opened, 
and  the  beautiful  material  within  displayed. 
Each  passed,  iutarn,  a  careful  examination,  and 
each  was  suce^J^ftly  tossed  aside  with  an  air  of 
dissatisfaction  at  the  result. 

"Don't  you  like  any  of  those,  Mrs.  Shannon?" 
asked  Mr.  Bradley. 

"No,  sir." 

"  Are  they  not  fine  enough  in  quality  ?  " 

"  Not  so  fine  as  I  wish.  I  always  like  the  very 
best  of  everything." 

"  I  have  a  beautiful  piece  of  plain  colored  Groa 
d'Afrique." 

"  Let  me  see  that,  Mr.  Bradley,"  and  the  cus 
tomer's  face  brightened. 

The  plain  colored  Gros  d'Afrique  was  handed 
down  from  the  shelf,  and  its  shining  folds  opened 
to  the  eye  of  Mrs.  Shannon. 

"  Is  not  that  beautiful,  ma'am  ?  I  think  I  have 
never  seen  so  rich  a  piece  of  goods." 

"  It  is  handsome,  Mr.  Bradley.  What  is  the 
price  ?  " 


152        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"  This  piece  of  goods  cost  me  three  dollars  a 
yard,  and  I  will  sell  it  for  cost,  if  you  will  take 
the  whole  of  it." 

"  How  much  is  there  in  the  piece  ? '? 

"Fifteen  yards." 

Mrs.  Shannon  shook  her 

"It  is  very  low,  ma'am." 

"Indeed,  I  think  it  high." 

"I'll  give  you  two  and  three  quarters  for  all 
you  will  bring  me,  ma'am." 

Mrs  Shannon  again  referred  to  the  silk,  hold 
ing  it  up  to  the  light,  examining  the  thread,  and 
noting  its  rich  lustre. 

"  You  will  take  two  for  it,  I  know,  Mr.  Brad 
ley,"  the  customer  said,  with  a  captivating  smile. 

"No,  ma'am,  not  of  any  one's  money,"  was 
the  positive  reply. 

"  I'll  give  you  two  for  it." 

"I  cannot  take  that,  Mrs.  Shannon.  Only 
think,  ma'am,  it  cost  me  three  dollars.  Surely 
you  do  not  wish  to  get  my  goods  at  a  price  that 
would  leave  me  a  serious  loss?" 

"  If  you  will  sell  it  at  two  dollars,  I  will  take 
the  whole  piece,  Mr.  Bradley." 


THE    BARGAINS.  153 

"Indeed,  ma'ana,  that  is  too  hard.  I  should 
prefer  leaving  the  goods  on  my  shelf  to  selling  at 
that  rate." 

And  the  storekeeper  commenced  folding  the 
silk,  and  replacuur  it  in  its  paper  envelope,  in 
quite  an  earnesHpusiness-like  manner.  There 
was  a  brief  silence,  broken  only  by  the  rustling 
of  the  Gros  d'Afrique,  when  Mrs.  Shannon 
said,  — 

"  If  you  will  sell  the  piece  for  two  and  a  half, 
I  will  take  it." 

Mr.  Bradley  paused,  looked  upward,  as  if 
engaged  in  calculation,  and  then  drawing  a  long 
sigh,  said,  — 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  must  have  it,  Mrs.  Shan 
non,  but  it  is  a  terrible  sacrifice." 

"It's  not  dear  at  that  price,  certainly,"  Mrs. 
Shannon  remarked,  in  a  quiet,  satisfied  tone, 
and  with  a  self-complacent  air. 

The  silk  was  measured  oft'  and  folded  up. 

"Have  you  any  handsome  shawls?"  Mrs. 
Shannon  now  asked ;  "  I  shall  want  one  this  fall." 

"  We  opened  a  case  yesterday  of  most  superb 
embroidered  crape,  just  from  New  York." 


154        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"Let  mo  look  at  them,"  said  the  customer; 
"  not  that  I  wish  to  purchase  this  moruiug,  but  I 
should  like  to  see  some  shawls,  so  that  I  can 
make  up  my  mind  when  I  come  to  buy." 

"O,  certainly,  ma'am." 

And  the  storekeeper  displRd  several  really 
beautiful  articles. 

"What  do  you  ask  for  this?"  referring  to  one 
o£;£  very  rich  pattern. 

"  We  cannot  sell  that  shawl  for  less  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  Mrs.  Shannon." 

"  One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  !  "  in  tones  of 
astonishment. 

"Why,  that  is  very  low  for  such  a  superb  arti 
cle.  We  sold  one  of  the  same  style  precisely  to 
Mrs.  General  Harper  yesterday,  immediately  on 
opening  the  case,  for  one  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars,  —  and  this  is  the  match  one  to  it.  I  ask 
you  but  one  hundred  and  fifty,  because  I  know 
you  deal  close,  and  wish  to  accommodate  myself 
as  far  as  I  possibly  can  to  your  views.  Mrs. 
Colonel  Jenkins  was  with  Mrs.  General  Harper, 
and  liked  the  shawl  so  much  that  she  thought 
she  would  come  in  to-day  and  buy  it.  But  as 


THE    BARGAINS.  155 

she  did  not  engage  it,  I  do  not  feel  bound  to 
retain  it  for  her,  if  you  are  pleased  with  both  the 
shawl  and  the  price." 

"I  think  the  shawl  most  beautiful,  Mr.  Brad 
ley,  but  really  thoprice  is  enormous." 

"I   make    uotSlg   on   it,    I   do   assure   you, 

ma'am." 

t 

"  Won't  you  take  sometjiiug  less  for  it,  Mr. 
Bradley." 

"  I  can't,  indeed,  ma'am." 

"You'll  take  a  hundred  and  twenty-five,  I 
know." 

"  That  would  be  doing  a  poor  business,  Mrs. 
Shannon.  I  had  better  shut  up  my  store  at 
once." 

"  Say  one  hundred  and  twenty-five,  and  you 
may  send  it  home." 

"Well,  I  don't  care!  I  hate  to  disoblige  a 
good  customer.  Take  it  along.  But  it  won't 
do  for  me  to  sacrifice  my  goods  in  this  way 
every  day.  If  I  do,  I  shall  go  to  the  wall  be 
fore  three  mouths.  Shall  I  show  you  anything 
else,  ma'am?" 

"Nothing  more,  I  believe.  How  much  do  all 
these  come  to?  " 


156        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"  One  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  for  the 
shawl,  thirty-seven  and  a  half  for  the  silk,  and 
eighteen  for  the  lace  —  one  hundred  and  eighty 
dollars  and  fifty  cents,  ma'am." 

"  That's  a  pretty  heavy  l^.  Call  it  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  crollars,  even,  Mr. 
Bradley." 

"That  would  be  too  hard,  indeed,  Mrs.  Shan 
non,"  and  the  storekeeper  shook  his  head,  for 
cing  a  smile  on  his  countenance  at  the  same  time. 

"Here's  just  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
dollars,  even  money,  Mr.  Bradley.  You'll  take 
that,  I  know,"  and  Mrs.  Shannon  smiled  with  an 
arch,  self-complacent  air.  "Indeed,  it's  all  that 
I  will  give  you  —  so  you  might  as  well  take  it 
with  a  good  grace." 

"Well,  if  I  must,  I  suppose  I  must,  Mrs. 
Shannon.  But,  indeed,  you  are  too  hard  on 
me." 

And  as  he  said  this  he  counted  over  the 
money,  and  threw  it  into  the  drawer. 

"  Will  you  send  the  goods  home  at  once  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Shannon. 

"  They  shall  go  home  immediately,  ma'am." 


THE    BARGAINS.  157 

And  then  the  customer  made  her  bow  and  de 
parted,  delighted  with  the  great  bargains  she  had 
made  out  of  the  storekeeper. 

As  she  withdrew,  Mr.  Bradley  glanced  know 
ingly  at  his  principal  salesman,  and  said,  with  a 
smile,  — 

"Did  you  see  that  operation,  James?" 

«  O,  yes.     That  was  delightful  !  " 

"  That  shawl  cost  sixty  dollars." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"And  the  silk  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  yard. 
I  lost  on  the  lace,  but  made  it  up  handsomely  on 
the  other  articles." 

"  Rather  too  handsomely,"  the  clerk  remarked, 
smiling  in  return. 

"Well,  it  was  her  own  fault,  James.  If  I  had 
asked  her  a  fair  price,  she  would  have  beaten  me 
down,  so  that  I  would  have  been  compelled  to 
lose  the  sale  or  lose  my  profits.  I  had  forgotten 
her  real  character  when  I  asked  her  but  four 
dollars  a  yard  for  the  lace.  Had  I  said  six  dol 
lars,  I  could  have  got  four  and  a  half  easily. 

"  It's  the  only  way  to  deal  with  such  people. 
As  a  general  rule,  I  can  get  more  for  an  article 


158        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

out  of  one  of  your  real  jewing  customers,  than 
out  of  a  fair  dealer,  who  buys  at  the  price  you 
name,  if  she  buys  at  all." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  only  way  to  get  along,  and  I 
believe  nearly  every  retailer  does  the  same." 

"O,  yes  ;  it's  the  ordinary  practice." 

A  customer  here  interrupted  the  conversation, 
and  we  are  unable  further  to  enlighten  the  reader 
on  the  subject  under  consideration  by  Mr.  Brad 
ley  and  his  salesman.  Enough,  however,  trans 
pired  to  give  a  word  to  the  wise. 

In  the  mean  time  Mrs.  Shannon  returned 
home,  and  awaited,  with  some  impatience,  the 
arrival  of  her  purchases.  They  were  brought 
home  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  after  a  friend,  an  elderly  lady,  named 
Mrs.  Cleveland,  called  to  see  Mrs.  Shannon. 

"Ah,  good  morning,  Mrs.  Cleveland,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  I've  been  out  shopping  this 
morning,  and  have  made  some  rare  purchases." 

"  Have  you,  indeed?" 

"  That  I  have.  Just  look  at  this  splendid 
shawl." 

"It  is  very  beautiful,  indeed,  Mrs.  Shannon." 


THE    BAKGAINS.  159 

"Ain't  it?  And  what  is  better,  I  got  it  for 
something  like  twenty-five  dollars  less  than 
cost." 

"For  less  than  cost!"  Mrs.  Cleveland  asked, 
in  tones  of  astonishment. 

"Yes,  indeed.  The  storekeeper  said  he  made 
nothing  at  all  on  it  at  one  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars.  But  I  beat  him  down  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five.  I  saw  plain  enough  that  he  was 
pushed  for  money,  and  would  sell  his  goods  at 
almost  any  price.  It  was  only  yesterday  that 
Mrs.  General  Harper  bought  the  fellow  to  it  at 
one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars.  Mrs.  Colonel 
Jenkins  wanted  this  one,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
would  have  taken  it  to-day,  at  the  same  price 
paid  by  her  friend  Mrs.  General  Harper.  When 
I  heard  that,  I  determined  to  have  it,  and  so 
made  my  offer.  Bradley  thought  a  bird  in  the 
hand  worth  two  in  the  bush.  How  disappointed 
Mrs.  Colonel  Jenkins  will  be  when  she  finds  the 
shawl  gone  !  I  am  so  glad  I  happened  to  see  it 
before  she  called  again.  And  just  look  at  this 
elegant  pattern  of  Gros  d'Afrique.  It  cost 
three  dollars,  and  was  cheap  at  that  price. 


160        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

Rather  than  have  missed  it,  I  would  have  given 
three  and  a  quarter  for  it.  Now  what  do  you 
think  I  got  it  for?" 

"Really,  I  do  not  know,  Mrs.  Shannon." 

"  Well,  I  got  it  for  two  dollars  and  a  half — 
far  below  cost." 

"You  did  !  "  with  a  grave  countenance. 

"Yes,  indeed.  I  saw  that  he  would  sell  at  al 
most  any  price,  and  so  I  beat  him  down  hard. 
I  could  have  obtained  this  piece  of  goods  at  two 
dollars  a  yard  if  I  had  held  out  a  little  longer." 

"But  don't  you  think  it  wrong  to  do  so,  Mrs. 
Shannon?!' 

"  Wrong !  "  with  a  look  and  tone  of  astonish 
ment.  "  Wrong !  How  in  the  world  can  you 
make  it  wrong  ?  " 

"Why,  wrong,  Mrs.  Shannon,  to  ask  a  man  to 
take  less  for  his  goods  than  they  cost  him,  par 
ticularly  when  the  goods  are  actually  worth  all 
that  is  asked  for  them?" 

"Really,  Mrs.  Cleveland,  I  cannot  understand 
you.  I  think  it  right,  indeed,  commendable,  for 
every  one  to  purchase  goods  as  low  as  possible." 

"  But  is  it  right  to  have  so  little  regard  for  the 


THE    BARGAINS.  161 

interests  of  others  as  to  take  advantage  of  their 
necessities  to  their  injury?  Really,  I  cannot  see 
it  to  be  right." 

"I  am  sure,  Mrs.  Cleveland,  that  I  can  see  no 
reason  why  I  should  pay  a  man  more  for  an  arti 
cle  than  he  is  willing  to  take.  Indeed,  as  it 
appears  to  me,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  his 
concerns.  If  he  sells  below  cost,  it  is  his  look 
out,  not  mine." 

"  I  cannot  take  the  same  view  of  things  that 
you  do,  Mrs.  Shannon.  It  seems  to  me  that  we 
should  regard  as  carefully  the  interests  of  others 
as  our  own  in  dealing  with  them.  Instead  of 
being  willing  to  buy  an  article  at  less  than  its 
real  cost,  when  that  cost  is  not  above  the  market 
value,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  ought  to  refuse  to 
take  that  advantage,  even  if  offered  to  us." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Cleveland!  I  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing !  I  should  call  that  cheating  one's 
self." 

"Not   at    all,    Mrs.    Shannon.      It   would   be 
simply  doing  by  others  as  we  would  wish  others 
to  do  by  us.     It  would  be  acting  towards  our 
neighbor  from  a  principle  of  true  charity." 
11 


162        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"If  you  act  from  that  principle,  Mrs.  Cleve 
land,  you  will  be  cheated  at  every  turn." 

"  I  differ  from  you.  There  is  in  the  minds  of 
most  persons  a  wish  to  deal  openly  and  fairly. 
A  close  customer  makes  a  close  salesman.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  in  most  cases  where  persons 
cheapen  goods,  they  are  ultimately  made  to  pay 
more  for  them  than  they  are  really  worth." 

"Well,  I  can  tell  you  that  I  always  cheapen 
when  I  buy,  and  I  know  very  well  that  I  never 
pay  too  much  for  an  article." 

Mrs.  Cleveland  smiled  meaningly. 

"You  needn't  laugh,  Mrs.  Cleveland.  I  know 
that  no  one  pays  less  for  dry  goods  than  I 
do." 

"There  you  are  mistaken,  Mrs.  Shannon.  As, 
for  instance,  in  the  case  of  this  beautiful  piece 
of  Gros  d'Afrique.  It  was  only  yesterday  that 
I  bought  twrelve  yards  of  that  very  piece  from 
Bradley,  at  two  dollars  a  yard,  which  was  all  he 
asked  me  for  it." 

"That  cannot  be,  Mrs.  Cleveland!  You  must 
have  bought  from  another  piece  of  goods." 

"No,  it  is  the  very  same;   I  cannot  be  rnis- 


THE    BAKGAINS.  163 

taken  in  the  article.  And  now  I  remember  that 
he  said  there  were  just  fifteen  yards  left." 

Mrs.  Shannon's  countenance  fell  instantly,  and 
then  grew  red  with  indignation. 

"Then  he  has  cheated  me  shamefully!"  she 
exclaimed,  "and  I'll  make  him  refund  me  the 
half  dollar  on  each  yard." 

"  Say,  rather,  Mrs.  Shannon,"  remarked  her 
plain-spoken  friend,  "that  you  have  cheated  your 
self.  Mr.  Bradley  put  the  price  up,  because  he 
knew  that,  ask  what  he  would,  you  would  never 
buy  without  beating  down.  It  has  happened 
that  you  did  not  beat  down  hard  enough,  and  so 
had  to  pay  for  your  error." 

"  But  it's  downright  cheating,  Mrs.  Cleveland, 
and  I'll  expose  him." 

"If  it  is  wrong  for  Mr.  Bradley  to  take  advan 
tage  of  your  ignorance,  and  receive  from  you 
more  than  an  article  is  really  worth,  it  is  no  less 
wrong  for  you  to  take  advantage  of  his  neces 
sities,  and  pay  him  less  than  the  article  cost 
him.  As  I  look  at  matters  and  things,  the 
wrong  is  equal." 

"I  don't  see  it  as  you  do,  Mrs.  Cleveland.     I 


164        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

do  not  compel  a  storekeeper  to  take  less  than 
cost  for  his  goods.  I  tell  him  what  I  will  give, 
and  he  is  at  liberty  to  sell  on  the  terms  I  pro 
pose  or  not." 

"  Still,  Mrs.  Shannon,  his  necessity  is  his  com 
pulsion,  and  of  this  you  take  advantage." 

"But  for  me  to  pay  him  a  profit  on  his  goods, 
when  he  is  willing  to  sell  below  cost,  would  be  a 
little  too  generous,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  He  is  not  ivilling,  but  compelled;  and  surely 
it  would  be  noble  in  any  one  to  regard  his  cir 
cumstances,  and  take  no  advantage  of  it." 

"As  I  said  before,  I  cannot  see  it  as  you  do, 
Mrs.  Cleveland." 

"I  feel  anxious  that  you  should  see  it  as  I  do, 
Mrs.  Shannon ;  and,  therefore,  I  will  try  to 
make  it  plainer  to  you.  Imagine  yourself  a 
widow,  compelled  to  do  some  kind  of  business 
for  the  support  of  your  family.  You  set  up, 
with  a  small  capital,  a  dry  goods  store.  Your 
capital  is  not  sufficient  to  buy  a  good  assortment, 
and  you  have  to  make  purchases  on  credit.  For 
a  time  you  get  on  tolerably  well,  and  are  enabled 
to  make  your  payments  without  trouble.  But, 


THE     BARGAINS.  165 

after  a  while,  old  goods  and  remnants  accumu 
late,  and  customers  make  little  bills,  the  aggre 
gate  of  which  is  quite  an  important  sum  to  you. 
You  cannot  now  so  readily  meet  your  payments  ; 
and,  of  course,  become  more  anxious  to  sell 
goods.  Rather  than  let  a  customer  go  out,  you 
will  sometimes  take  cost  for  an  article.  A 
pressing  demand  for  money  will  cause  you,  as  a 
temporary  expedient,  to  take  even  less  than  cost, 
when  nothing  more  can  be  obtained  from  one 
who  perceives  your  anxiety  to  sell,  and  takes 
advantage  of  it.  Now  placing  yourself  in  the 
position  that  I  have  placed  you,  would  you  not 
think  it  very  unjust  for  any  one  thus  to  profit  by 
your  necessities  ?  " 

Mrs.  Shannon  did  not  reply.  This  was  a  new 
mode  of  reasoning  on  the  subject.  Like  too 
many  others,  she  could  not  see  the  bearing  of 
any  rule  of  action  until  applied  to  herself. 

"I  hardly  think  the  case  parallel,"  she  at 
length  said. 

"They  are  precisely  parallel,  Mrs.  Shannon. 
A  dry  goods  merchant  does  business,  in  most 
cases,  for  the  benefit  of  his  family,  the  members 


166        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

of  which  are  dependent  upon  him  for  a  support. 
There  are  but  few  of  them  who  are  not,  at  some 
time  or  other,  in  similar  difficulties  to  those  I 
have  imagined  to  exist  in  your  case.  Mr.  Brad 
ley  I  happen  to  know  to  be  in  precisely  that 
situation.  He  is  much  in  want  of  money  just  at 
this  time.  His  anxiety  to  sell  caused  him  to 
act  upon  what  I  think  a  false  principle.  He 
knew  that  you  would  cheapen  his  goods,  and 
therefore  he  asked  you  a  very  high  price.  Per 
haps,  had  he  not  been  so  much  pressed,  he  would 
have  asked  only  a  fair  price,  and  not  receded 
from  it." 

Mrs.  Shannon  began  to  have  a  glimpse  of  the 
principle  of  action  laid  down  by  her  friend.  But 
it  was  only  a  glimpse. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  she,  after  a  pause,  "that  my 
shawl  is  not  such  a  great  bargain  after  all.  But 
I  hardly  think  I  have  paid  too  much  for  it." 

"  Only  fifty  dollars  more  than  Mrs.  Harper 
paid  for  hers." 

"What?" 

"  I  was  with  Mrs.  Harper  when  she  purchased 
her  shawl ;  and  seventy-five  dollars  was  all  that 


THE     BARGAINS.  167 

Mr.  Bradley  asked  for  it.  His  price  was  paid 
without  a  word,  for  Mrs.  Harper  had  the  fullest 
confidence  in  him.  And  you  see  now  how  hon 
estly  he  is  disposed  to  deal  with  a  fair  customer. 
Mrs.  Jenkins  was  very  anxious  to  have  the  fellow 
that  you  have  bought,  and  she  told  me  this 
morning  that  her  husband  was  willing  that  she 
should  buy  it,  and  that  she  was  going  out  at 
once  to  secure  the  shawl.  She  has  doubtless 
before  this  met  the  disappointment  that  awaited 
her.  The  error  that  you  have  committed,  Mrs. 
Shannon,  in  picking  up  that  shawl  so  eagerly, 
to  prevent  Mrs.  Jenkins  from  getting  it,  has  re 
sulted  in  a  disappointment  to  you  both.  I  trust, 
my  friend,  that  you  will  not  soon  forget  the  les 
son,  and  that  its  effect  may  be  salutary." 

Just  then  the  servant  handed  a  sealed  letter, 
which  was  instantly  broken  open  by  Mrs.  Shan 
non.  It  contained  a  bank  bill  for  fifty  dollars, 
and  ran  thus  :  — 

"  To  MRS.  SHANNON.  MADAM  :  The  value  of 
the  shawl,  that  you  bought  of  me  this  morning, 
was  only  seventy-five  dollars,  at  which  price  the 


168        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

profit  to  me  is  a  fair  one.  But  as  I  knew  that 
you  would  not  buy  it  unless  I  fell  considerably 
on  the  price,  I  doubled  it,  to  leave  ample  room 
to  come  down.  You  did  not  beat  down  hard 
enough,  and  so  paid,  and  willingly  too,  fifty  dol 
lars  more  than  it  was  worth.  The  silk  you  paid 
a  half  dollar  a  yard  more  for  than  my  living 
price ;  but  as  you  got  the  lace  at  a  dollar  a  yard 
less  than  it  cost  me,  these  two  items  will  balance 
each  other.  The  fifty  dollars  enclosed  will  re 
duce  the  shawl  to  its  real  value.  And  now, 
madam,  I  shall  be  happy  to  wait  on  you  again; 
but  remember,  that  I  shall  only  ask  you  a  fair 
profit.  Do  not  again  tempt  me  to  adopt  a  prin 
ciple  of  action  that  I  cannot  help  feeling  to  be 
wrong. 

"Yours,  JOHN  BKADLEY." 

A  burning  blush  of  shame  covered  the  face  of 
Mrs.  Shannon  as  she  finished  this  letter.  She 
eat  musing  a  few  moments,  and  then  handed  it  to 
Mrs.  Cleveland.  On  reading  it,  that  lady  re 
marked,  — 

"  I  cannot  say,  Mrs.  Shannon,  that  I  regret  the 


THE    BARGAINS.  JG9 

occurrence  of  this  incident.  It  will  be  a  lesson  to 
you  that  you  can  never  forget." 

"Indeed,  it  will.  But  pray,  Mrs.  Cleveland, 
do  not  mention  it.  I  shall  be  mortified  to  death 
if  it  gets  out.  And,  as  to  the  shawl,  tell  Mrs. 
Jenkins  that  she  is  welcome  to  it,  if  she  wishes 
to  have  it.  Indeed,  I  shall  never  put  it  on, 
that's  settled." 

"Do  not  fear  that  I  will  mention  it,  Mrs. 
Shannon.  I  shall  be  far  more  gratified  in  seeing 
you  act  from  higher  principles  than  such  as  have 
influenced  you,  than  in  giving  circulation  to  an 
affair  calculated  to  wound  the  feelings  of  a 
friend." 

"You  are  always  kind  and  generous  in  your 
feelings,  Mrs.  Cleveland.  Would  that  I  could 
act  from  as  high  motives,"  Mrs.  Shannon  said, 
grasping  the  hand  of  her  friend,  and  the  other 
rose  to  depart. 

"Try,  then,  to  think  right;  and  afterwards  to 
act  from  these  true  perceptions  of  right.  In  this 
way  you  will  gain  the  power  to  do  unto  others 
as  you  would  wish  others  to  do  unto  you." 

And  so  saying,  Mrs.  Cleveland  shook  the  hand 


170        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

of  ker  friend,  and  turned  away  from  her  door. 
The  lesson  was  not  lost  on  Mrs.  Shannon.  She 
never  again  indulged  in  the  evil  of  trying  to 
get  goods  at  less  than  cost.  The  offer  of  her 
shawl  to  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  accepted,  and  one 
was  as  willing  to  part  with  it  as  the  other  was  to 
receive  it. 

As  for  Mr.  Bradley,  his  conscience  troubled 
him  after  Mrs.  Shannon  had  left  the  store. 
Fifty  dollars,  he  felt,  were  too  much  to  take 
from  her.  While  debating  in  his  mind  what  to 
do,  a  customer  from  the  country  came  in,  and 
paid  him  an  old  bill  of  five  hundred  dollars. 
This  determined  the  question  in  his  mind,  and 
produced  the  note  and  enclosure  sent  to  Mrs. 
Shannon. 


LITTLE     MARY. 


V. 

LITTLE   MART. 

"No,  darling,  not  to-day;  the  snow  is  too 
deep,"  said  her  mother. 

"  But  I  want  to  so  badly,  mamma,  dear  !  "  and 
the  sweet  little  face,  shaded  with  disappoint 
ment,  looked  up  with  a  pleading  expression. 
"I'm  just  in  my  A-b  abs,  and  I  know  every  bit 
of  my  lesson.  O,  I  must  go  to  school,  mamma  ! 
I've  got  rubber  shoes,  and  I  don't  care  a  bit  for 
the  snow.  Say  yes  —  that's  a  dear,  good  mam 
ma." 

"Indeed,  indeed,  my  pet,  the  snow  is  too 
heavy  for  your  little  feet,"  answered  the  mother. 

Just  then  Mary's  two  ruddy-faced  brothers, 
John  and  Andrew,  came  stamping  in  at  the 
door,  and  shaking  the  snow  from  their  feet. 

"Is  Mary  most  ready?"  asked  John.  "It's 
time  we  were  off  to  school." 

"She's  too  little  to  wade  through  this  snow, 


172        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

my  son,"  replied  the  mother.  "I'm  sorry,  for 
she  wants  to  go  so  badly.  But  she  would  be 
tired  out,  and  might  get  sick." 

Mary's  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  John,  'who 
loved  her,  couldn't  bear  to  see  it.  The  snow 
was  deep,  and  the  distance  to  school  too  great 
for  the  little  feet  of  pet  Mary.  John,  now  that 
he  thought  about  it,  understood  this  as  well  as 
his  mother.  He  stood,  looking  serious,  for  a 
little  while.  Then,  as  light  flashed  over  his  face, 
he  cried  out  in  a  cheery  voice,  — 

"  O,  I've  got  it !  Andy  and  I  will  ride  her  to 
school  on  our  sled.  Won't  we,  Andy?" 

"  Hurrah  !  "  shouted  Andy.  "  Bring  on  the 
sled!  Won't  it  be  fun?" 

"O,  yes,  mamma!  Can't  I  go?  They'll  ride 
me  all  the  way ;  "  and  a  glad  light  shone  through 
the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"It's  a  long  way,  and  I'm  afraid  the  boys  will 
tire  themselves  out,"  answered  mamma.  But  it 
didn't  take  long  to  persuade  her  to  let  Mary  go. 

How  gayly  the  children  started  off!  Mary 
sitting  on  a  box  containing  all  their  books,  and 
with  their  dinner-basket  on  her  lap,  "and  John 


LITTLE    MARY.  173 

and  Andrew  galloping  away  like  frisky  horses. 
After  a  while  Andrew,  who  was  just  a  little 
lazy,  and  not  half  so  unselfish  as  his  brother, 
got  tired  of  pulling,  and  said  he  would  push. 
But  he  soon  found  pushing  harder  than  pulling ; 
so,  as  the  sled  was  going  down  a  slope,  he  got 
on  behind  without  John  seeing  him,  and  rode 
for  twenty  or  thirty  yards  to  the  bottom  of  the 
slope.  If  he  had  jumped  off  then,  and  com 
menced  pushing  again,  John  wouldn't  have 
known  about  it;  but  he  kept  his  place,  and 
John,  without  looking  back,  strained  and 
tugged  at  the  sled  that  was  twice  as  hard  to 
pull  as  before.  Now  this  wasn't  fair  in  Andrew. 
But  it's  the  way  with  lazy  people ;  they  not 
only  neglect  to  help  others,  but  often  meanly 
exact  service  from  others  while  they  are  idle. 
Not  a  suspicion  of  the  cause  of  his  heavier 
work  crossed  the  mind  of  John  until  he  heard 
a  schoolmate,  coming  along  with  his  sister,  cry 
out,  — 

"Get   off,   there,  you   lazy   fellow,  and   help 
John   pull!" 

Andrew's  knees  were  off  the  sled  in  a  moment, 


174        NOT     ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

and  John,  who  was  pulling  with  all  his  might, 
almost  fell  forward  in  the  snow  when  his  weight 
was  removed. 

Andrew  laughed,  and  said  he  was  only  in  fun ; 
and  good-natured  John  forgave  him,  and  joined 
in  the  laugh.  But  Andrew  felt  a  little  mean; 
he  couldn't  help  it. 

Then  the  three  boys  took  hold  of  the  rope, 
and  to  their  united  strength  little  Mary  seemed 
as  light  as  a  feather.  How  like  gay  horses  they 
pranced  and  tossed  their  heads,  flying  along  as 
the  wind,  and  coming  up  to  the  school-house 
with  merry  shouts,  that  were  answered  by  the 
groups  of  children  before  the  door ! 

Mary  had  her  lesson  in  A-b  abs  perfect,  and 
there  wasn't  a  happier  child  there  when  her 
teacher  said,  "You're  a  good  little  darling  to 
come  all  the  way  in  this  snow,  and  say  so 
perfect  a  lesson." 

When  school  was  out,  two  strong  boys  took 
hold  of  the  rope  with  John,  and  away  went 
the  dear  little  scholar  home  again,  swiftly  and 
safely. 


DISCORDANT     STRINGS..  175 


VI. 


DISCORDANT  STRINGS. 

"  OUR  homes  are  like  instruments  of  music. 
The  strings  that  give  melody  or  discord  are  the 
members.  If  each  is  rightly  attuned,  they  will 
all  vibrate  in  harmony.  But  a  single  discordant 
string  jars  through  the  whole  instrument,  aud 
destroys  its  sweetness." 

The  speaker's  voice  was  calm,  but  impressive. 
He  was  talking  to  a  young  man,  whose  flushed 
face  gave  evidence  of  an  excited  state  of  mind. 

"You  look  at  me,  uncle,  with  eyes  that  say, 
'  You  are  the  discordant  string  in  this  house 
hold.'  "  The  young  man's  voice  trembled  with 
suppressed  feeling. 

"Frankly,  Edward,  I  think  you  are,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Every  cross  wind  disturbs  you." 

"  There  are  cross  winds  enough  in  this  house 
to  disturb  an  angel,"  was  answered,  with  con 
siderable  feeling. 


176        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

The  door  of  the  room  in  which  they  were  sit 
ting  opened,  and  a  girl  entered.  She  smiled 
pleasantly  as  she  looked  towards  her  uncle. 
Crossing  to  a  table  on  which  lay  some  books, 
she  selected  a  volume,  and  was  taking  it  up, 
when  Edward  spoke  out  in  an  imperative  tone, 
saying,  — 

"Don't  take  that  book,  Nelly  ;  I'm  reading  it." 

"  O  !  are  you  ?  "  And  the  young  girl  dropped 
the  volume.  There  were  in  voice  and  manner 
both  sarcasm  and  rebuke. 

Edward's  face  flushed.  He  felt  the  meaning 
of  what  she  said,  and  was  .offended.  But  for 
the  presence  of  his  uncle,  he  would  have  shot 
barbed  arrows  from  his  lips.  Nelly  selected 
another  book,  and  went  out  in  silence ;  but 
her  air  was  that  of  a  person  displeased.  Had 
brother  and  sister  been  alone,  there  would  have 
come  loud  discord  jarring  through  all  the  house 
hold. 

"  You  see  how  it  is,"  said  Edward,  appealing 
to  his  uncle.  "I  can't  speak  but  some  one  is 
offended." 

"  There  is,  in  speaking  as  in  everything  else, 


DISCORDANT    STRINGS.  177 

a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way.  Your  way,  just 
now,  was  wrong,  and  gave  offence." 

"  Wrong,  uncle  !  I  merely  said,  '  Don't  take 
that  book,  Nelly;  I'm  reading  it.'  For  my  life, 
I  can't  see  any  wrong  way  in  that." 

"  You  were  annoyed,  and  half  angry.  I  saw 
it  in  your  face,  and  perceived  it  in  your  tones. 
Nelly  was  innocent  of  any  purpose  to  offend  or 
hurt." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  uncle.  She  knew  I 
was  reading  that  book,  and  came  for  it  just  on 
purpose.  That  was  what  annoyed  me.  She 
meant  to  annoy  me." 

Nelly  was  called  by  her  uncle.  She  came  in 
with  "the  same  quiet  smile  that  rested  on  her 
face  a  short  time  before. 

"  Sit  down,  dear,"  said  the  uncle ;  and  she  sat 
down  by  the  table,  on  one  side  of  which  her 
brother  was  leaning.  She  looked  at  him  ear 
nestly.  His  face  was  sober,  but  not  ill-natured. 
Too  often  moodiuess  and  ill-nature  gave  to  it 
an  unbeautiful  expression. 

"Nelly,"  said  the  uncle,  a  soft  light  just 
touching  his  grave  lips,  "I  am  going  to  ask 
12 


178       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

you  a  question,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  answer 
it  until  you  have  given  yourself  a  few  moments 
for  thought  and  self-control.  When  you  took 
up  that  book  a  little  while  ago,  were  you  aw  tire 
that  Edward  was  reading  it?" 

Nelly  dropped  her  eyes.  Her  cheeks  flushed 
warmer.  Looking  up  in  a  few  moments,  she 
answered,  — 

"  I  knew  he  had  been  reading  it,  but  I 
thought  — "  She  stopped,  and  reflected  an. 
instant;  then  added,  "No,  I  didn't  think  any 
thing  about  it.  But  if  I  had  known  that 
he  wanted  the  book,  I  would  have  taken  an 
other." 

"  Then  you  did  not  mean  to  annoy  him  ?  " 

"O,  dear,  no,  uncle!  Why,  Edward!  Did 
you  really  think  that?" 

There  was  something  so  open  and  frank  about 
Nelly's  manner,  that  even  the  most  sensitive 
mind  could  not  have  been  offended. 

"If  he  had  not  thought  so,  Nelly,  he  would 
not  have  opposed  your  taking  the  book  in  so 
imperative  a  manner.  This  is  his  excuse  for  an 
apparent  uukindness." 


DISCORDANT    STRINGS.  179 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  Edward,  yon  did  me 
wrong,"  said  the  sister.  "I  never  do  any 
thing  purposely  to  annoy  yon  —  never  !  Some 
how  I  am  unfortunate,  and  all  the  while  doing 
something  that  disturbs  you  ;  but,  I  declare,  in 
truth,  that  I  never  do  an  unkind  thing,  or  speak 
an  unkind  word,  unless  from  momentary  irrita 
tion,  and  then  I  am  always  sorry  for  it,  and 
resolve,  often  in  tears,  that,  do  to  me,  or  say 
to  me  what  you  please,  I  will  never  answer, 
except  in  gentleness  and  forgiveness.  It  is  a 
daily  grief  to  me,  dear  uncle,"  she  added,  with 
brimming  eye,  "that  discord  rules  so  often  in 
our  home  instead  of  peace.  We  are  all  too 
sensitive,  too  quick,  too  ready  to  blame  one 
another,  instead  of  letting  love  and  forgiveness 
dwell  in  our  hearts.  O,  what  would  I  not  give 
to  have  it  otherwise  ! " 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  face,  in  momen 
tary  loss  of  self-control,  and  sobbed.  Edward, 
who  was  just  now  seeing  himself  in  a  likeness 
never  recognized  before,  was  deeply  moved  by 
this  unexpected  exhibition  of  feeling  on  the  part 
of  his  sister. 


180        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"It  is  all  my  fault,  Nelly  !  "  he  exclaimed,  un 
der  a  sudden  impulse  of  self-condemnation.  "All 
rny  fault !  I  am  so  irritable,  so  ill-natured,  so 
quick  to  think  evil  instead  of  good.  But,  in  the 
time  to  come,  God  helping  me,  I  will  not  be  the 
jarring  string  in  our  household." 

"  Dear  brother,"  said  Nolly,  rising  and  passing 
round  the  table  to  where  Edward  was  sitting,  — 
she  laid  her  hand  upon  him,  and  he  leaned 
towards  her, — "let  what  will  occur,  never  give 
room  to  the  thought  that  I  purposely  annoy  you. 
I  have  not  done  so,  and  I  will  not  do  so.  And 
yet,  between  you  and  me,  are  too  many  angry 
passages.  We  are  not  patient  enough  with  each 
other,  not  forbearing  enough,  not  loving  enough. 
Why  may  it  not  be  different  ?  " 

"It  shall  be  different,  if  anything  that  I  can 
do  have  power  to  work  a  difference,"  replied 
Edward,  with  much  feeling,  as  he  gazed  into  his 
sister's  face,  and  thought  that  he  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  beautiful. 

"Keep  these  two  chords  in  tune,"  said  their 
uncle,  "and  the  household  music  will  rarely  feel 
a  throb  of  discord."  And  he  drew  an  arm  ten 
derly  about  each. 


DISCORDANT     STRINGS.  181 

"My  dear  nephew,"  —  the  uncle  spoke  freely, 
yet  earnestly,  when  they  were  again  alone,  — 
"  it  is  plain,  as  I  have  already  said,  that  in  this 
dwelling  you  have  been  least  in  harmony.  Au 
irritable  temperament,  and  lack  of  perception  as 
to  your  just  relation  to  others,  have  blinded  you 
to  the  real  state  of  your  life.  I  pray  you  to  let 
the  light  which  has  penetrated  your  mind  keep 
your  vision  clear,  and  the  good  purposes  you 
have  formed  rule  all  your  after  conduct.  Keep 
yourself  in  tune,  and  home  discords  will  rarely 
occur." 

Ah,  that  untuned  string  which  is  forever 
throwing  our  household  harmonies  afloat  on 
the  waves  of  discord !  In  what  home  is  it 
absent?  And  if  one  is  most  responsible,  all 
are  responsible  in  their  degree.  We  need  more 
patience  and  forbearance,  more  love,  more  self- 
abnegation.  We  are  each  too  quickly  disturbed, 
and  too  ready  to  give  back  anger  for  anger.  If 
one  string  gets  out  of  tune,  let  all  the  rest  bo 
drawn  more  tightly,  and  in  their  harmony  will 
be  subdued  or  stilled  its  harsh  vibrations. 


182        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 


VII. 

PHARISEE   AND   PUBLICAN. 

"Dm  you  observe  the  manner  in  which  Mrs. 
Brentwood  treated  Mary  Clive  ?  " 

«Yes." 

"I  wonder  what  she  can  mean  by  it?  She 
pulled  her  dress  away  when  Mary  sat  down  on 
the  sofa  near  her,  as  though  taint  were  in  the 
touch  of  her  garment.  Her  bearing  was  cold 
and  repellent." 

"Mary  Clive  is,  in  everything  that  goes  to 
wards  excellence  of  character,  her  superior,"  said 
the  other. 

"  So  I  read  the  two  women,"  answered  the 
first  speaker.  "I  know  them  both  intimately. 
Mrs.  Brentwood  is  worldly,  selfish,  and  critical 
in  her  estimates  of  other  people ;  readier  to  see 
evil  than  good.  She  has  an  active,  but  not  a 
reflective  mind ;  sees  a  great  deal  on  the  out 
side  of  things,  but  is  away  from  her  element, 


PHARISEE    AND    PUBLICAN.          183 

and  loses  herself,  when  she  attempts  to  go  alone 
beneath  the  surface.  She  has  no  deep  experi 
ences  :  no  fierce  conflicts ;  no  great  trials  and 
temptations.  She  has  not  passed  through  the 
fire ;  and,  in  my  opinion,  the  reason  is  clear : 
there  is  not  fine  gold  enough  in  her  character  to 
stand  the  fire.  She  would  be  consumed  in  the 
furnace  out  of  which  such  women  as  Mary  Clive 
come  purified  for  heaven." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  Mary  Olive's  early 
life  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  No  ;  I  take  her  as  I  find  her.  That  she  has 
passed  through  trials  and  temptations,  any  one 
can  see.  She  has  suffered,  and  grown  strong, 
and  pure,  and  sweet.  Her  inner  life  touches 
your  life,  and  you  feel  better  for  the  contact. 
An  hour  passed  with  Mary  Clive  is  never  an 
hour  lost.  Your  higher  nature  has  been  stirred. 
You  feel  the  impulse  of  truer  ends.  Your  chari 
ty  is  broader,  and  full  of  desire.  But,  your 
question  recurring,  may  I  ask  if  you  know  any 
thing  of  Mary  Olive's  history  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  There  have  been  dark  passages  ?  " 


184        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"Yes;  and  Mrs.  Brentwood  knows  all  about 
them." 

«  Ah  !  is  that  so  ?  " 

"Another  time  we  will  talk  about  this,"  said 
the  friend.  "Come  and  see  me,  when  you  have 
a  leisure  afternoon.  I  thought  you  knew  some 
thing  of  her  former  life,  and  understood  its  les 
sons.  The  story  will  not  fail  to  reach  your 
ears.  Mrs.  Brentwood  will  tell  it  on  the  first 
good  opportunity,  and  it  is  best  that  you  should 
hear  it  from  one  who  judges  of  a  life  from  its 
present  good,  instead  of  its  past  and  rejected 
evil." 

A  few  days  afterwards  the  ladies  met,  when 
the  subject  was  renewed. 

"Mary  has  passed  through  the  furnace,"  said 
the  one  who  was  ignorant  of  Miss  Olive's  early 
history. 

"Yes;  and  the  flames  left,  for  a  time,  the 
smell  of  fire  upon  her  garments.  It  came  to  the 
nostrils  of  Mrs.  Brentwood,  and  has  lingered 
there  ever  since.  She  never  sees  or  thinks  of 
Mary  without  perceiving  the  unpleasant  odor." 

"There  is  no  smell  of  fire  upon  her  garments 
now ! " 


PHARISEE    AND    PUBLICAN.          185 

"My  sense  perceives  none.  To  me  she  is  pure 
and  clean.  And,  knowing  her  intimately,  if  she 
were  not  pure-minded,  I  should  be  quick  to  per 
ceive  it." 

"  I  have  noted  this  difference  between  her  and 
Mrs.  Brentwood,"  said  the  other.  "Mary's  con 
versation  never  touches  the  indelicate,  and  if  she 
talks  of  persons,  it  is  to  speak  of  the  good  in 
them.  Her  charity  for  people  is  a  striking  fea 
ture  in  her  disposition.  And,  so  far  as  my  in 
tercourse  with  Mrs.  Brentwood  has  gone,  I  find 
her  the  very  opposite.  She  is  quick  to  see  faults 
in  others,  and,  to  all  appearance,  takes  pleasure 
in  exposing  them.  Her  mind  seems  to  be  full 
of  petty  social  scandals,  and  she  speaks  of  them 
with  a  piquancy  of  style  and  feeling  that  shows 
how  much  she  delights  in  them.  There  is  a  cer 
tain  pretence  of  being  shocked  at  the  evil  things 
related ;  but  the  veil  is  too  thin  to  deceive  any 
one  of  close  observation.  To  me  she  is  an  essen 
tially  impure-minded  woman." 

"  I  have  reached  the  same  conclusion,"  was 
answered. 

"And  such  a  one  as  she  presumes  to  draw  back 


18G       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

her  garments  from  the  touch  of  Mary  Clive,  as 
if  there  were  pollution  in  the  contact ! " 

"  Yes.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  Pharisee  and 
publican  in  another  sphere  of  life." 

"  Mary  has  sinned." 

"Who  has  not?  The  heart  is  corrupt  by 
nature.  Away  back,  in  the  spring-time  of  her 
years,  a  shadow  dropped  down  upon  her  life. 
Her  childhood  was  not  favorable.  The  lot  of 
many  is  cast  with  the  undisciplined,  the  impure, 
or  the  vicious.  She  was  exposed  to  many  bad 
influences,  and  temptation  crept  about  her  feet, 
like  a  serpent,  even  from  the  very  beginning. 
Her  mother  was  a  weak,  frivolous  woman,  and, 
I  fear,  not  blameless  in  conduct.  Her  husband, 
a  man  of  strong  feelings  but  good  life,  left  her, 
and  tried  to  get  his  children  away.  A  suit  for 
the  purpose  was  about  being  commenced,  when 
he  died,  and  they  were  left  to  their  fate.  Hap 
pily  for  them,  they  all  soon  went  the  way  their 
father  had  gone,  except  Mary.  She  was  left 
with  her  mother,  and  exposed  to  malign  influ 
ences. 

"Very  different  was   the   childhood   of  Mrs. 


PHARISEE    AND    PUBLICAN.          187 

Brentwood.  Her  father  and  mother  were  re 
ligious  people,  living  in  harmony,  and  guarding 
their  children  from  all  apparent  evil.  I  fear,  that 
if  she  had  been  subjected  to  the  influences  that 
surrounded  Mary  Olive,  she  would  never  have 
passtd  through  them,  and  risen  into  a  useful  and 
virtuous  life.  If,  watched  and  protected  as  she 
was  by  parents,  and  kept  from  contact  with  things 
impure,  she  is  not  now  so  much  in  love  with 
good  as  to  search  for  it  in  her  friends  and  ac 
quaintances,  but  so  attracted  by  things  evil  and 
impure  as  to  see  them  first  of  all,  how  would 
it  have  been  with  her  if  her  young  life  had  been 
cast  in  the  very  sphere  of  evil?  I  fear  that  she 
would  not  have  passed  the  ordeal  safely. 

"At  the  age  of  nineteen,  Mary  Clive  was  found 
by  a  lady,  under  circumstances  of  a  painful  char 
acter.  This  lady  was  a  Christian  in  the  true 
sense,  and  understood  something  of  what  our 
Lord  meant  when  he  said,  'Joy  shall  be  in  heav 
en  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than 
over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons,  which  need  no 
repentance  ; '  and  so  she  became  a  friend  to  Mary 
in  the  true  sense,  —  learned  all  about  her  child- 


188        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

hood,  and  the  associations  by  which  she  had 
been  surrounded;  and  looked  with  a  wise  intui 
tion,  born  of  charity  that  seeks  to  do  good,  down 
into  her  heart  and  character,  —  finding  there 
much  to  encourage  the  hope  of  a  truer  develop 
ment  and  a  higher  and  better  life  in  the  future. 
Her  first  step  was  to  lift  her  from  amidst  the 
external  things  by  which  she  had  so  long  been 
surrounded,  and  to  place  her  in  a  position  favor 
able  to  the  growth  of  order,  virtue,  and  right  prin 
ciples.  Very  quickly  the  first  good  seeds  cast 
into  the  ground  of  her  mind  showed  signs  of 
germination.  Flower  and  fruit  in  due  time  re 
warded  the  lady's  care  and  solicitude.  From  the 
very  day  Mary  Clive  felt  the  pure  life  of  this 
Christian  woman  touching  her  own  life,  a  virtu 
ous  strength  came  to  her,  as  if  by  a  kind  of 
transfusion.  It  was  as  if  she  had  suddenly  stood 
still,  and  instead  of  going  a  single  step  farther  in 
the  wrong  way,  had  begun  to  move  steadily  in 
an  opposite  direction,  not  once  pausing  to  look 
back,  except  to  shudder  at  the  evil  she  had  suf 
fered  and  escaped. 

"From  the  beginning,  this  lady  remained  her 


PHAKISEE    AND    PUBLICAN.          189 

kind  and  faithful  friend.  She  found  qualities  in 
Mary  that  soon  won  upon  her  tenderer  feelings. 
Being  childless,  the  warm,  demonstrative,  and 
filial-like  love  of  Mary  touched  her  with  a  new 
born  sense  of  pleasure.  Gradually  the  girl  grew 
nearer  and  nearer;  creeping  at  last  into  her 
heart,  and  living  there  until  death  wrought  a 
separation.  This  lady's  position  in  society  estab 
lished  that  of  Mary.  Were  there  no  such  evil- 
disposed  women  as  Mrs.  Brentwood  in  the  circles 
where  Miss  Clive  now  moves,  not  one  in  twenty 
would  dream  that  an  evil  shadow  had  darkened 
her  young  life." 

"  Has  she  an  income  ?  " 

"Yes.  On  her  friend's  death,  she  found  her 
self  well  provided  for.  The  high  character,  pure 
life,  and  noble  Christian  virtues  of  this  friend, 
known  to  small  and  great  in  the  community,  is 
the  answer  that  right-thinking  people  give  when 
your  Mrs.  Brentwoods  try  to  hurt  Mary  by  un 
veiling  the  past.  Even  though  dead,  she  yet 
throws  about  her  the  mantle  of  protection." 

"  Has  Mary's  life  run  smoothly  since  the  time 
it  left  the  wilderness  ?  " 


190        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"  With  one  or  two  exceptions.  She  was  a  few 
years  ago  quite  attractive  in  person.  This,  with 
her  social  position,  her  intelligence,  and  the 
sweetness  of  her  character,  made  her  an  object 
of  attention.  She  did  not  court,  but  shrunk 
from  this  attention,  particularly  when  it  came 
from  the  other  sex.  It  was  hardly  possible  that 
she  should  fail  to  lead  some  heart  captive,  or 
escape  the  passion  of  all  passions  deepest  and 
most  absorbing.  A  young  man  belonging  to  one 
of  what  are  called  our  '  best  families '  (best  in  a 
mere  conventional  sense)  paid  her  close  atten 
tions,  and  finally  offered  his  hand.  She  did  not 
accept  the  offer,  but  referred  him  to  her  friend 
and  benefactress,  from  whom  she  exacted  a 
promise  that  the  history  of  her  early  life  should 
be  told  without  disguise.  I  do  not  think  the 
young  man's  better  nature  was  shocked  by  the 
disclosure,  —  his  subsequent  life  has  disproved 
any  such  idea, — but  he  shrunk  away  from  her, 
withdrawing  his  offer  of  marriage. 

"The  hurt  was  severe,  and  showed  itself  in  a 
pale  face  and  a  more  quiet,  inward-looking  man 
ner.  The  young  man  married  about  a  year 


PHAEISEE    AND    PUBLICAN. 

afterwards,  but  selected  unwisely.  The  family 
was  all  right,  and  the  maiden's  record  fair ;  but 
the  current  of  her  impulses,  which  had  been  hid 
den  from  observation,  when  it  found  free  course 
and  touched  her  outward  life,  left  a  stain.  He 
had  turned  from  one  whose  soul,  purified  by  the 
touch  of  divine  truth,  had  something  of  vestal 
purity,  and  mated  himself  with  glossed  corrup 
tion  !  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that,  in 
spite  of  scandals,  grounded,  I  fear,  in  cause, 
Mrs.  Brentwood  holds  intimate  relations  with 
this  person,  whose  family  position  has  covered 
a  multitude  of  sins  with  the  mantle  of  a  false 
charity." 

"  It  is  a  high  consolation  to  know,"  was  an 
swered,  "that  God's  judgments  are  not  as  man's. 
That  he  looks  at  the  heart,  and  if  he  finds  it  pure, 
accepts  the  life ;  but  if  it  is  not  pure,  does  not 
accept  the  life,  however  orderly  it  may  be  in  ex 
ternal  things.  As  seen  by  angels,  the  soul  of 
one  like  Mrs.  Brentwood  is  dark,  deformed,  and 
repulsive  —  a  cage  of  unclean  things ;  while  that 
of  one  like  Mary  Clive  is  white  and  beautiful. 
Shall  you  or  I  hesitate,  because  of  the  past,  as  to 


192        NOT    ANYTHING    FOK    PEACE. 

which  of  these  shall  come  nearest? — as  to  which 
shall  have  our  truest  regard  and  confidence?" 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  friend.  "The  really 
pure  are  they  who,  in  strong  trial  and  tempta 
tion,  have  overcome  evil.  Your  self-esteeming, 
holier-than-thou  Pharisee,  is  not  pure.  It  is  in 
the  touch  of  her  garments  that  a  taint  lies ;  not 
in  that  of  hers  whose  garments  have  been  purged 
by  celestial  fires." 


THE    TWO    VASES.  193 


VIII. 

THE  TWO  VASES. 

"Do  you  admire  them?"  said  the  shopman,  in 
that  bland,  enticing  voice  so  peculiar  to  the  true 
type  of  his  class. 

"  They're  charming  ! "  answered  the  young  man 
•with  enthusiasm.  "  Charming !  "  and  he  lifted 
one  of  the  elegant  Birmingham  glass  vases  from 
the  shelf  near  which  he  was  standing,  and  held 
it  towards  the  light.  "Does  it  not  seem  like  a 
very  miracle  of  art?  Could  anything  be  more 
perfect  than  this  wreath  of  green  ivy,  twining 
with  the  very  grace  of  nature  around  lozenge- 
shaped  ornaments,  rich  in  color  as  ruby  wine  ? " 

"  Let  me  send  them  home,"  said  the  shopman, 
in  his  soft,  bewitching  voice. 

«  Thank  you ;  but  I  can't  afford  to  indulge  in 
luxuries  of  this  kind,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"They're  cheap;  the  cheapest  pair  of  vases, 
13 


194       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

style  and  quality  considered,  that  I  have  in  the 
store." 

"  What  is  the  price  ?  " 

"  Only  twenty-five  dollars." 

What  a  light  thing  the  shopman's  voice  made 
of  twenty-five  dollars !  A  mere  trifle,  scarcely 
worthy  of  a  thought.  But  the  tempted  cus 
tomer  shook  his  head,  as  he  put  the  vase  which 
he  had  been  holding  in  his  hand  back  upon  the 
shelf,  saying,  — 

"  Too  heavy  for  my  pocket." 

"  O,  that's  only  a  fancy ! "  said  the  shopman. 
"Let  me  send  them  home.  It's  of  no  conse 
quence  about  the  money ;  that  will  do  at  any 
time.  Surprise  your  wife  !  Think  how  delight 
ed  she  will  be  with  these  charming  ornaments 
for  her  parlor  mantel-piece.  I  know  ladies' 
weaknesses  in  this  direction  as  well  as  the  next 
man." 

And  he  took  back  from  the  shelf,  where  his 
customer  had  returned  it,  one  of  the  glass  vases, 
and  began  calling  attention  to  its  peculiar  points 
of  beauty. 

"It's  of  no  consequence   about  the  money!" 


THE    TWO    VASES.  195 

Ah,  that  little  sentence  was  doing  its  work  in 
the  young  man's  mind.  He  was  a  bookkeeper, 
receiving  only  a  moderate  salary,  and  not  able 
to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  twenty-five  dollar 
vases ;  and,  much  as  he  might  have  desired  to 
possess  the  pair  now  offered,  the  question  of 
cash  down  would  have  settled  the  matter  with 
out  debate.  But  it  was  of  no  consequence  as 
to  the  money  !  This  put  a  different  face  on  the 
matter.  He  began  to  look  with  more  strongly- 
favoring  eyes  upon  the  richly-colored  and 
exquisitely-cut  and  moulded  ornaments.  He 
saw  them  gracing  his  little  parlor,  and  giving 
it  a  new  attraction ;  saw  the  pleased  face  of  his 
wife ;  heard  the  admiration  of  friends  and  vis 
itors  ;  felt  the  delight  of  possessing  such  exquis 
ite  pieces  of  art. 

"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever." 

The  shopman  knew  enough  of  Byron  for  trade 
purposes,  at  least.  This  was  one  of  his  favorite 
quotations.  It  was  true  poetry  to  him,  for  it 
put  money  into  his  pocket  almost  daily,  turning, 
as  it  so  often  did,  the  customer's  nicely-equi 
poised  debate  on  the  side  of  consent. 


196       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"  A  perpetual  enjoyment,"  said  the  young 
man,  in  his  thought,  responsive  to  the  tempter's 
suggestion  from  the  poet,  "  and  not  only  to  my 
self  and  wife,  but  to  our  friends." 

"I  will  send  them  home,  Mr.  Talbot;  I  want 
you  to  possess  these  vases.  They  are  unique  of 
their  kind,  and  have  been  more  admired  than 
anything  in  the  store.  The  sight  of  them  will 
be  as  sunshine  in  your  home.  Every  house 
should  have  in  it  articles  of  true  taste  and 
beauty.  Money  is  always  well  spent  in  this 
direction.  Nothing  pays  so  well.  Beauty  edu 
cates  the  mind,  and  lifts  us  above  the  rude  and 
depraving  things  of  common  life ;  gives  happi 
ness,  in  short.  So  I  will  send  them  home,  and, 
at  your  own  convenience,  you  can  pay  for  them. 
Take  two,  three,  or  four  mouths  —  any  time  will 
suit  us." 

"Very  well,"  answered  Mr.  Talbot;  "if  you 
"will  do  so,  I  can't  help  myself,  of  course.  I 
think  the  vases  exquisite,  and  I  know  my  wife 
will  be  charmed  with  them." 

From  the  store  in  which  our  young  friend's 
prudence  had  been  overcome  by  what,  in  his 


THE    TWO    VASES.  197 

case,  was  little  less  than  a  covetous  desire  to 
possess  the  beauty  his  eyes  looked  upon  with 
admiration,  he  went  to  his  work  for  the  day, 
not  feeling  altogether  satisfied  with  himself. 
Prudence  had  urged  him  not  to  buy  the  vases, 
and  endeavored  to  make  him  see  that  it  would 
be  wrong  to  incur  any  debt,  seeing  that  his  light 
income  barely  sufficed  to  reach  the  expense  of 
their  frugal  housekeeping.  But  in  a  moment 
of  weakness  he  had  put  aside  the  suggestions 
of  prudence.  Now,  however,  the  clear  voice  of 
this  true  monitor  was  heard  again,  disturbing 
his  self-satisfaction,  and  throwing  a  shadow  over 
the  sunshine  of  anticipated  pleasure. 

Very  impatient  was  Mr.  Talbot  for  evening  to 
come,  when,  turning  from  his  desk,  a  free  man, 
he  could  go  home,  look  upon  his  beautiful  vases, 
and  witness  the  pleasure  of  his  wife  in  this 
charming  addition  to  her  little  parlor.  At  last 
the  sun  went  down  in  the  brief  day  of  closing 
autumn,  and  our  young  friend  bent  his  light 
steps  homeward,  thinking  of  scarcely  anything 
besides  his  new  possessions,  and  the  higher  tone 
of  pleasure  it  would  give  to  the  meeting  with 


198        NOT    ANYTHING    FOB    PEACE. 

his  wife.  He  expected  to  see  the  parlor  lighted 
up,  and  to  find  her  sitting  there  in  silent  admira 
tion  of  the  beautiful  objects  he  had  bought. 
But  no ;  all  was  dark  as  he  came  in  sight  of 
his  dwelling.  He  felt  a  pressure  of  disappoint 
ment.  Was  it  possible  that  the  vases  had  not 
been  sent  home?  He  feared  that  it  was  so. 
His  key  rattled  in  the  latch,  and  he  pushed 
open  the  door.  The  gas  flickered  dimly  in  the 
passage,  turned  low  by  the  prudent  hand  of  his 
wife.  As  the  jar  of  the  closing  door  broke 
along  the  stillness,  Mr.  Talbot  listened  to  hear 
the  sound  of  his  wife's  footsteps,  in  a  sudden 
start,  on  her  way  to  meet  him.  But  all 
remained  silent.  He  drew  off  his  coat,  and 
hung  it  upon  the  rack,  his  feelings  considerably 
dashed. 

In  their  little  sitting-room  Mr.  Talbot  found 
his  wife  busy  with  her  needle-work.  She  looked 
up  with  her  usual  welcoming  smile  and  pleasant 
words  ;  but  Mr.  Talbot  thought  neither  the  smile 
nor  tone  as  heart-free  as  usual.  Perhaps  this 
was  because  his  picture  of  the  meeting  had 
been  too  warmly  tinted  in  imagination. 


THE    TWO    VASES.  199 

"Was  anything  sent  home  to-day?"  He 
could  not  keep  back  from  this  uppermost  sub 
ject  in  his  mind. 

A  light  glanced  over  the  face  of  Mrs.  Talbot ; 
but  it  was  not  the  warm,  glad  light  her  husband 
looked  to  see. 

"  Yes ;  two  beautiful  vases.  Whose  are 
they  ?  " 

«  Ours." 

"No!" 

"Yes,  ours  —  yours,  Mary.  I  bought  them 
for  you.  Are  they  not  exquisite?" 

The  light  went  fading  out  of  Mrs.  Talbot's 
countenance. 

"  Yes,  they  are  very  beautiful,  Charles ;  but 
too  handsome  for  our  plain  parlor." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  Mary.  Just  what  they 
wanted.  The  mantel-piece  has  always  looked 
so  meagre,  with  only  a  pair  of  china  match 
boxes,  and  that  little  painted  imitation  of  Bo 
hemian  glass.  But  these  are  gems  of  art  and 
beauty — things  to  give  the  mind  a  perpetual 
pleasure.  Come  !  I  must  see  them." 

And  Charles  Talbot  drew  his  wife  away  to  the 


200        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

parlor,  which  was  soon  glowing  in  light  from 
every  lighted  burner  in  the  room. 

"What  was  the  cost?" 

All !  how  often  does  this  question  come  as  a 
damper  to  enthusiasm  ? 

"Only  twenty-five  dollars."  Mr.  Talbot's 
voice  lost  a  little  of  its  firmness. 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  !  Why,  Charles  !  WThat 
could  have  possessed  you  ?  " 

The  young,  prudent  wife,  who  felt  daily  how 
closely  their  income  held  them  to  the  necessity 
of  a  most  careful  expenditure,  was  betrayed 
into  a  tone  of  disapproval  stronger  than  was 
at  all  agreeable  to  her  husband. 

"I  didn't  have  to  pay  the  inoney  down,"  he 
said,  in  vindication  of  himself,  yet  with  a  cold 
ness  that  came  as  a  chill  to  the  feelings  of  his 
wife. 

Already  the  pair  of  vases,  which  were  to 
bring  a  new  pleasure  into  their  home,  had  coma 
between  them,  and  they  stood  farther  apart, 
instead  of  nearer  together.  Instinctively  was 
this  felt  by  Mrs.  Talbot ;  and  she  tried  to  rally 
herself,  and  look  pleased  and  interested.  But 


THE    TWO    VASES.  201 

she  had  betrayed  her  real  feelings  and  senti 
ments  ;  and  to  cloak  them  now  was  no  actual 
concealment. 

"  They  are  beautiful,"  she  said,  with  an  inter 
est  in  her  manner  that  only  in  part  deceived  her 
husband,  taking  one  of  them  from  the  mantel 
piece,  and  holding  it  to  the  light;  "and  I  don't 
wonder  you  were  tempted.  What  a  rich  ruby  ! 
It  comes  to  the  eyes  laden  with  a  sense  of  enjoy 
ment,  just  as  a  deep,  pure  organ-tone  comes  to 
the  ear." 

"And  they  are  really  very  cheap."  Ah  !  that 
was  not  aptly  said  for  Mr.  Talbot.  No,  they 
were  not  cheap  for  him  —  not  cheap  if  the  price 
had  been  twenty,  or  even  fifteen,  instead  of 
twenty-five  dollars,  for  he  was  not  well  enough 
off  in  the  world  to  afford  this  luxury.  And  here 
let  the  remark  be  made,  that  all  articles  of  taste 
and  luxury  —  pictures,  vases,  statuettes,  and  the 
like  —  which  cannot  be  afforded,  that  is,  which 
cannot  be  obtained  without  debt,  or  the  depriva 
tion  of  things  essential  to  use  and  comfort, 
always  bring  to  the  possessors  more  pain  than 
pleasure.  Their  beauty  soon  dims,  and  the 


202        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

sight  of  them  is  always  attended  with  a  certain 
sense  of  disquietude.  Covetous  eyes  take  them 
in  greedily,  and  will  not  be  satisfied  with  any 
thing  less  than  possession ;  but  after  possession 
their  charm  is  gone. 

"And  they  are  really  very  cheap."  No,  it  was 
not  aptly  said;  and,  as  the  thought,  how  very 
dear  they  were  for  them,  crept  through  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Talbot,  the  fine  enthusiasm  of 
her  manner  died  away.  She  returned  the  vase 
she  -was  holding  to  the  mantel-piece,  and  a 
sigh  —  it  was  involuntary  —  stole  out  upon  the 
air. 

One  after  another  the  gas  lights  were  turned 
off  by  Mr.  Talbot,  in  a  kind  of  desperate  delib 
eration,  and  in  silence  he  and  his  young  wife 
returned  to  their  sitting-room.  She  took  up  the 
sewing  which  had  been  laid  down  on  his  en 
trance,  and  bent  close  over  it;  and  he  drew  a 
newspaper  from  his  pocket,  and  commenced 
looking  through  its  well-filled  columns  for 
something  of  interest.  But  nothing  that  he 
tried  to  read  took  hold  of  his  mind.  Steadily 
his  thought  turned  itself  away  from  things  of 


THE    TWO    VASES.  203 

general  interest,  and  hovered  around  his  pair  of 
vases,  the  purchase  of  which  he  was  already 
soberly  regretting.  Onward  to  the  pay  day 
his  mind  was  beginning  to  reach,  and  the 
difficulty  of  saving  twenty-five  dollars  from 
their  income  had  a  disheartening  look.  The 
idea  of  being  in  debt  was  producing  an  uncom 
fortable  feeling.  "Two,  three,  or  four  months." 
So  the  storekeeper  had  said.  After  two  months, 
then,  the  twenty-five  dollars  would  be  due ;  and 
four  months  was  the  limit  of  time.  The  Sum 
could  not  be  paid  in  two  months,  —  the  quarter's 
rent  would  interfere,  —  and  so,  from  that  period, 
he  would  be  in  the  uncomfortable  state  of  a 
debtor  not  able  to  pay,  borne  with,  two  months 
longer,  on  sufferance.  How  native  pride  and 
independence  felt  a  sting  of  shame ! 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Mary  ?  "  Mr. 
Talbot,  who,  looking  for  some  time  over  the  top 
of  his  unread  newspaper  at  the  shadowed  face 
of  his  wife,  spoke  out  suddenly,  and  Mrs. 
Tulbot  looked  up  in  a  startled  way,  flushing, 
as  though  detected  in  something  she  would 
rather  conceal. 


204       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"Will  you  give  a  penny  for  my  thoughts?" 
she  replied,  endeavoring  to  appear  indifferent  as 
to  their  nature. 

"Yes;  or  a  dollar,  if  you  will.  So  let  me 
see  them."  Mr.  Talbot  tried  to  smile  in  a 
pleasant  way,  but  the  mask  did  not  fairly  hide 
the  real  face  that  was  clouded  beneath.  His 
wife  answered,  — 

"We  cannot  always  determine  the  nature  of 
our  thoughts.  They  are  often  unbidden  and 
unwelcome  guests ;  and  it  is  better,  at  times, 
to  let  them  pass  unspoken." 

"Your  thoughts  may  always  be  spoken  to 
your  husband,  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Talbot,  his 
voice  falling  into  a  tenderness  of  tone  that 
showed  the  intrusion  of  right  feelings. 

But  Mrs.  Talbot  kept  silence. 

"You  were  thinking  of  the  vases,  Mary." 

She  did  not  reply. 

"And  of  my  weakness,  folly,  and  extrava 
gance  —  " 

"No,  no,  Charles.  That  is  no  right  reading 
of  my  thoughts."  She  spoke  with  a  still  height 
ening  color. 


THE    TWO    VASES.  205 

"Then  open  the  page,  and  let  me  read  them 
just  as  they  have  recorded  themselves.  You 
were  thinking  of  the  vases.  How  did  your 
thoughts  run  ?  Don't  be  afraid  of  hurting '  or 
offending  me.  I  want  to  see  this  matter  with 
your  eyes.  We  cannot  afford  a  pair  of  twenty- 
live-dollar  vases.  You  thought  that." 

«  Yes." 

"  Well ;  and  what  besides  ?  " 

"I  thought  of  Hannah  sleeping  on  the  sack 
ing,  because  we  had  not  been  able  to  spare  the 
money  for  a  mattress  or  bed." 

The  parted  lips  of  Mr.  Talbot  closed  tightly, 
and  his  forehead  drew  together. 

"And  of  the  contrast  between  those  showy 
vases  and  our  plain  parlor  furniture  —  a  con 
trast  that  will  always  be  unpleasiiig  to  our 
eyes,  and  a  cause  of  remark  by  our  visitors. 
Our  extravagance  and  lack  of  good  taste  will, 
most  likely,  be  the  burden  of  our  friends'  com 
ments." 

"May  be  you  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Talbot. 
"Go  on.  What  more  of  your  thoughts?" 

"The  pay  day  must  come.     Will  you  be  able 


206        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

to  spare  twenty-five  dollars  in  three  or  four 
months  from  this  time  any  better  than  you  can 
spare  it  now?  And  will  not  this  thought  be  all 
the  while  troubling  you,  and  taking  from  the 
vases  all  beauty  in  your  eyes?  And  suppose 
you  can't  pay  for  them  when  the  price  is  due  ? 
The  thought  of  your  being  in  debt,  and  of  the 
humiliation  that  must  follow,  really  sickens  me. 
Even  a  debt  of  twenty -five  dollars  may  rob  a 
man  of  all  true  enjoyment  in  life." 

A  long  sigh  struggled  up  from  the  young 
man's  bosom. 

"Your  thoughts  are  of  the  right  tone,  Mary," 
he  replied,  with  a  sober  face.  "What  a  fool  I 
was  to  let  that  smooth-tongued  shopman  entice 
me  from  common  sense  and  common  prudence. 
I  should  have  known  that  no  real  enjoyment 
could  lie  for  us  in  mere  external  beauty,  gained 
at  the  price  of  self-disapprobation  and  debt." 

That  was  one  of  the  dullest  evenings  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Talbot  had  spent  together  for  a  long  time. 
A  shadow,  as  of  some  evil,  seemed  to  rest  on 
their  spirits.  They  did  not  venture  into  the 
parlor  again  to  look  at  their  elegant  vases,  but 
instinctively  avoided  the  apartment. 


THE    TWO    VASES.  207 

The  tranquil  sleep  that  usually  came  to  the 
pillow  of  Mr.  Talbot  did  not  visit  him  that 
night.  His  mind  was  excited  with  thoughts 
about  the  vases ;  and  these  kept  him  awake 
until  after  the  small  hours  that  strike  on  the 
side  of  the  morning.  When  sleep  came  at  last, 
he  had  one  of  those  vivid  dreams  that  surprise 
us  when  we  recall  them,  by  their  strange  and 
minute  semblance  to  reality.  It  extended,  ap 
parently,  through  months,  during  all  of  which 
time  the  vases  were  a  source  of  the  keenest 
annoyances  and  mortifications.  There  -  were 
constant  demands  for  the  twenty-five  dollars, 
and  no  ability  to  pay. 

"You  will  have  to  wait  longer,  sir."  He 
awoke  long  before  day  dawn,  speaking  these 
words  aloud. 

"Who  will  have  to  wait?"  asked  Mrs.  Tal 
bot;  she  was  not  really  sleeping.  Something 
had  disturbed  her  rest,  and  once  fairly  awake, 
unpleasing  thoughts  about  the  vases  had  come 
to  her  mind  in  unwelcome  intrusion,  and  kept 
her  from  oblivion  again. 

"O,  it's  nothing  —  nothing!  I  was  dream 
ing,"  he  answered. 


208        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"Dreaming  about  what?" 

But  Mr.  Talbot  did  not  reply.  A  suspicion 
of  the  truth  crossing  the  mind  of  his  wife,  kept 
her  from  pressing  the  question. 

"  If  mere  shadows  can  so  affect  us,"  was  the 
thought  of  Mr.  Talbot,  as  he  lay  with  the  vivid 
impression  of  that  dream  still  in  his  conscious 
ness,  "  what  pain  must  be  in  the  substance  from 
•which  it  is  projected.  If  a  vision  of  debt  is  so 
full  of  humiliation,  the  actuality  must  be  ter 
rible  ! " 

When  Mr.  Talbot  left  his  house  next  morning 
he  had  two  packages  in  his  arms.  They  wrere 
the  Birmingham  vases. 

"What  are  these?"  asked  the  shopman,  whose 
bland  persuasions  had  won  consent  from  his 
customer  on  the  day  before,  as  Mr.  Talbot  came 
in,  and  laid  his  two  packages  on  the  counter. 
There  was  only  the  faintest  semblance  of  a  smile 
on  his  face  now,  for  he  saw,  by  the  shape  of  the 
packages,  what  was  iu  them,  and  understood 
that  the  vases  were  to  be  returned.  Without 
answering,  Mr.  Talbot  removed  the  enveloping 
paper. 


THE    TWO    VAg'ES.  209 

"Well,  sir?"  The  shopman  looked  at  the 
vases,  and  then  at  his  customer,  in  a  mystified, 
questioning  way,  affecting  not  to  understand 
what  was  clear  to  him  as  a  sunbeam. 

"  I  must  ask  the  privilege  of  returning  these 
articles,"  said  Mr.  Talbot. 

"  Why  so  ?  "     The  voice  cut  rather  sharply. 

"My  wife  doesn't  care  about  them  —  in  fact,  I 
can't  afford  to  indulge  in  superfluities  of  this 
kind."  The  young  man's  face  colored.  His 
pride  was  touched.  He  felt  humiliated.  The 
purchase  was  a  fair  one,  and  there  was,  in  his 
view,  something  of  meanness  in  receding  from 
a  bargain.  Still  he  must  get  the  vases  off  his 
hands,  for  to  keep  them  would  be  to  retain  a 
source  of  perpetual  annoyance. 

"  It's  against  our  rule."  How  cold  the  voice  ! 
How  impassive  the  manner !  "  We  might  ex 
change  them.  I  don't  see  that  we  can  do  any 
better." 

The  worst  was  over  with  Mr.  Talbot.  He 
grew  hard  and  resolute  under  this  changed  as 
pect  of  the  shopman. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  speaking  firmly,  "to 
14 


210       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

be  obliged  to  return  these  vases.  But  it  is 
better  for  you  and  me  both  that  it  should  be 
done.  You  will  expect  your  money,  and  it 
may  not  come  'when  you  look  for  its  receipt. 
The  vases  are  handsome,  and  will  not  wait  long 
for  a  customer." 

And  saying  this,  the  young  man  turned  from 
the  counter.  As  he  did  so,  the  words,  "  This  is 
your  property,  not  mine,  and  it  will  remain  at 
your  risk,"  were  thrown  after  him,  angrily.  He 
came  back,  and  said,  in  a  quiet  voice  that  en 
tirely  concealed  the  disturbance  he  felt,  — 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor,  Mr.  Jenkins  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  Sell  these  vases  within  two  months,  —  the 
shortest  time  in  which  I  was  to  pay  for  them,  — 
and  send  me  a  bill  for  the  difference  between 
what  they  bring  and  twenty-five  dollars?" 

"  I'd  rather  you'd  keep  them." 

"That  I  am  resolved  not  to  do,  and  for  the 
reason  already  given.  I'm  sorry  you  have  made 
me  feel  so  uncomfortable  about  a  matter  of  but 
little  importance  to  yourself.  Oblige  me  in  what 
I  ask.  If  I  am  ready  to  make  good  any  do- 


THE    TWO    VASES.  211 

ficieucy  in  price,  why  compel  me  to  keep  articles 
that  I  do  not  want  ?  " 

There  was  an  unamiable,  muttered  acqui 
escence  in  this  proposal,  and  Talbot  retired, 
feeling  more  disturbed  and  unhappy  than  he 
had  been  for  years. 

"If  some  of  my  friends,  whom  I  know  to  be 
indulging  in  elegancies  and  luxuries  beyond 
their  means,  have  anything  of  my  experience 
in  this  the  first  transgression,  I  pity  them ! " 
said  the  young  man,  feelingly,  to  himself,  as 
he  hurried  along  the  street  on  his  way  to  the 
counting-room  where  he  was  employed.  "I 
will  keep  it  in  perpetual  remembrance,  as  a 
wall  of  protection  around  me  in  future  temp 
tations." 

That  evening,  as  Charles  Talbot  stood  in  his 
plain  but  neatly  furnished  parlor,  and  looked  at 
the  two  china  match-boxes  and  imitation  Bohe 
mia  vase  that  decorated  his  mantel-piece,  they 
seemed  so  in  harmony  with  everything  else  in 
the  rooms,  that  a  real  sense  of  pleasure  stole 
into  his  heart.  They  were  not  elegant  and 
costly,  but  as  being  the  best  he  could  afford 


212        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

in  the  way  of  ornament,  had  more  power  in 
them  to  give  peace  of  mind  than  lay  in  the 
richest  works  of  art  and  skill  obtained  at  the 
cost  of  self-disapproval,  debt,  or  humiliating 
embarrassment. 

"  How  weak  and  blind  I  was,  Mary,"  he  said, 
as  he  drew  his  arm  around  his  wife.  "  The  vases 
would  have  brought  into  our  present  home  the 
demon  of  disquiet." 

"I  am  glad  you  returned  them,"  was  her 
gently-spoken  answer.  "We  do  not  need  such 
things  for  happiness,  Charles.  There  are  higher, 
better,  and  surer  sources,  and  we  may  go  to 
them  daily  if  we  will.  Contentment  is  great 
gain.  Peace  comes  from  right  thoughts  going 
down  into  right  actions,  not  from  a  restless 
desire  to  possess  whatever  strikes  the  eye  as 
beautiful  or  desirable.  Let  us  be  thankful  for 
the  good  we  have,  and  not  suffer  it  to  be  thrown 
into  shadow  by  the  good  of  another.  We  lose 
all  that  we  really  have,  and  gain  nothing  by  this. 
God  knows  best  in  what  sphere  of  life  we  can 
be  most  useful  to  ourselves  and  to  others ; 
safest  for  this  world  and  the  next ;  happiest  for 


THE    TWO    VASES.  213 

time  and  for  eternity.  Let  us  steadily,  tran 
quilly,  patiently  move  and  shine  in  our  sphere, 
and  all  will  be  well." 

"  The  vases  shall  be  my  monitor.  I  will  think 
of  them  when  tempted  again,"  replied  Talbot, 
"  and  the  recollection  will  quicken  into  life  my 
better  reason.  The  lesson  was  needed,  and  I 
have-  learned  it  by  heart." 


214       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 


IX. 

IN    TROUBLE. 

"THERE'S  something  wrong  with  Hugh,"  said 
Mrs.  Ellis,  speaking  to  her  husband.  "All  the 
life  has  gone  out  of  him." 

"  He's  tired  himself  at  play,  or  eaten  too  much 
cake  and  candy,"  answered  the  father.  "He'll 
be  all  right  again  in  the  morning." 

But  Mrs.  Ellis  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  that. 
She  had  noticed,  on  Hugh's  return  from  school, 
a  change  in  the  frank,  cheerful  face  he  commonly 
wore.  He  did  not  come  with  his  usual  hop, 
skip,  and  jump,  and  merry  laugh,  but  glided  in 
almost  stealthily,  as  though  he  wished  to  avoid 
observation. 

Instead  of  romping  with  Lion,  the  house  dog, 
or  racing  over  the  lawn  and  through  the  garden 
walks,  he  sat  down  by  a  window  and  opened  one 
of  his  lesson-books.  But  though  he  bent  down 
over  his  book,  his  mother,  who,  unknown  to 


IN    TROUBLE.  215 

Hugh,  was  watching  him  closely,  saw  that  he 
was  not  studying. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  son  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  boy  started,  and  his  face  grew  red. 

"Nothing,"  he  replied,  in  a  voice  that  did  not 
sound  like  his  own,  turning  his  head  away  as  he 
spoke. 

" Don't  you  feel  well?" 

"  My  head  aches."  And  the  lad  answered 
truthfully. 

Mrs.  Ellis  laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead.  It 
felt  hot. 

"How  long  has  your  head  ached?"  she  in 
quired. 

"Not  long." 

"Do  you  feel  badly  anywhere  else?  " 

"No,  ma'am,"  Hugh  answered.  But  in  this  he 
was  not  so  truthful.  He  had  something  worse 
than  any  head-ache.  What  was  that  ?  you  ask. 
I  will  tell  you.  He  had  the  heart-ache ;  and 
heart-aches  are  a  great  deal  worse  than  head 
aches,  and  more  difficult  to  cure. 

Mrs.  Ellis  stood  with  her  cool  hand  resting  on 
Hugh's  forehead  for  a  little  while,  hesitating 


216        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

whether  to  question  him  farther,  or  to  wait  until 
he  showed  more  Avillingness  to  confide  to  her  the 
trouble  that  weighed  on  his  mind. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  as  she  removed  her 
hand.  "You've  been  playing  too  hard." 

Hugh  did  not  reply,  and  his  mother  left  him 
without  saying  anything  more. 

He  was  dull  at  supper  time,  and  soon  after  the 
lamps  were  lighted  went  off  to  bed.  After  un 
dressing  himself  he  knelt  down  as  usual  to  say 
his  prayers.  But  as  the  first  words  of  "Our 
Father "  came  from  his  mouth  a  great  darkness 
and  confusion  fell  on  his  mind,  and  a  shiver  ran 
through  his  body.  He  could  not  repeat  a  single 
sentence  of  the  prayer.  Almost  in  affright,  he 
arose  quickly  and  crept  into  bed,  drawing  the 
clothes  tightly  around  him. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Hugh  could  get  to 
sleep,  and  then  his  slumber  was  not  peaceful. 
Dreams  troubled  him  all  through  the  night. 
From  one  of  these  dreams  he  awoke,  trembling 
in  every  limb,  and  with  the  large  drops  of  per 
spiration  standing  on  his  forehead. 

This  was  the  dream.     He  thought  that,  against 


IN    TROUBLE.  217 

his  father's  express  command,  he  had  gone  off  with 
two  or  three  lads  of  his  own  age  to  visit  some 
Indians  who  had  set  up  their  bark  tents  in  the 
neighborhood,  where  they  made  baskets,  and 
pretended  to  tell  fortunes.  He  dreamed  that 
as  he  stood  looking  in  at  one  of  the  tent  doors  a 
tall,  painted  Indian,  with  a  wicked  face,  caught 
hold  of  his  arm  with  a  tight  grip,  and  said,  — 

"What  a  fine  boy  !     I  buy  him." 

Then  a  man,  whom  he  had  not  seen  before, 
stood  up  beside  the  Indian,  and  answered, — 

"I'll  sell  him." 

"What  your  price?"  asked  the  Indian,  his 
grip  on  Hugh's  arm  growing  tighter. 

"Twenty  dollars,"  said  the  man. 

"I  take  him,"  answered  the  Indian  ;  and  as  he 
spoke  he  commenced  fastening  the  boy's  hands 
with  a  strip  of  tough  bark.  Hugh  tried  to 
scream,  but  could  utter  no  sound. 

Then  he  awoke,  panting  and  frightened.  For 
almost  an  hour  he  lay  awake  after  this.  At  last, 
wearied  with  tumbling  and  tossing  on  his  bed, 
he  fell  off  to  sleep  again ;  and  then  another 
frightful  dream  came  with  its  strange  and  shadowy 


218        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

terrors.  He  thought  himself  still  awake  and 
alone  in  his  room  with  the  darkness  around  him. 
Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  entered 
with  a  lamp  in  his  hand,  the  light  from  which 
filled  all  the  chamber.  He  had  a  severe  counte 
nance  ;  and  his  eyes,  as  they  turned  on  the 
scared  boy,  seemed  to  pierce  him  through  like 
sharp  daggers. 

"Come,"  he  said,  in  a  stern  voice;  and  Hugh 
arose  and  followed  him  out  of  the  room.  He 
did  not  find  himself  in  a  softly  carpeted  hall,  but 
in  a  narrow  passage,  the  floor  and  walls  of  hewn 
stone.  A  cold  damp  air  sent  a  shiver  through 
his  body.  The  man  strode  on  through  this  pas 
sage,  and  the  boy,  trembling  and  in  great  fear, 
walked  swiftly  after  him.  At  last  the  man 
stopped  before  a  grated  iron  door,  put  a  key 
in  the  lock,  and  swung  it  open.  Hugh  went  in, 
and  then  the  door  shut  upon  him  with  a  heavy 
clang,  and  he  was  alone  in  a  prison  cell.  It  was 
dark  at  first;  then  it  grew  light,  and  he  could 
see  the  damp,  slimy  walls,  the  grated  window, 
and  the  iron  bedstead. 

Ugh  !     What  a  shudder  ran  suddenly  through 


IN    TROUBLE.  219 

him !  As  bis  gaze  rested  on  the  bed,  a  pair  of 
glittering  eyes  fixed  him  where  he  stood,  as  if 
they  were  arrows.  Slowly  uncoiled  the  body  of 
a  huge  serpent ;  the  head  raised  itself  in  air, 
moved  from  side  to  side,  and  then  advanced  to 
wards  him,  the  fiery  eyes  growing  larger  as  it 
approached. 

Motionless  writh  terror,  the  boy  stood  gazing 
at  the  serpent  until  he  could  feel  its  hot  breath 
in  his  face.  Then  fear  grew  into  such  wild  ago 
ny  that  he  awoke. 

O,  what  a  relief  it  was  to  see  daylight  coming 
in  through  the  window,  and  to  know  that  all 
these  frightful  things  were  but  dreams ! 

Never  before  had  such  terrors  visited  him  in 
sleep.  Glad  to  leave  his  bed,  Hugh  arose  much 
earlier  than  usual,  and  dressing  himself,  went 
down  stairs,  and  out  into  the  garden.  The  sun 
was  just  rising,  and  his  beams,  as  they  fell  on 
the  leaves  and  blades  of  grass,  made  thousands 
of  dew-drops  glow  and  sparkle  with  a  brilliancy 
richer  than  that  of  the  purest  diamond.  The  air 
was  cool  and  refreshing,  and  all  things  peaceful. 
But  the  peace  of  nature  did  not  reflect  itself  in 


220       NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

the  boy's  heart.  Upon  that  rested  a  heavy  load, 
and  within  was  a  trouble  that  all  nature,  no 
matter  how  tranquil  or  beautiful,  could  not 
soothe. 

It  was  because  of  this  that  his  dreams  had 
been  so  frightful.  The  hardest  pillow  on  which 
any  one  can  sleep  is  a  troubled  conscience.  It 
gives  no  rest  day  nor  night. 

And  so  Hugh's  conscience  was  troubled? 
Yes ;  he  had  done  a  wicked  thing.  You  are 
sorry  to  hear  this,  and  I  am  sorry  to  tell  of  it. 
Poor  boy  !  none  knew  of  his  sin  except  God, 
from  whose  eyes  nothing  is  ever  concealed ;  and 
he,  in  his  great  love,  troubled  his  conscience, 
and  let  evil  spirits  haunt  him  with  dreaming 
fears,  so  that  he  might  be  led  to  repentance. 

Shall  I  tell  you  of  his  sin?  At  school,  on  the 
day  before,  he  had  seen  in  the  desk  of  one  of  the 
children  a  large  ripe  pear  and  a  peach.  "  O,  I 
wish  they  were  mine ! "  he  said  to  himself, 
eagerly.  To  desire  the  possession  of  anything 
that  belongs  to  another  is  to  covet  that  thing. 
If  Hugh  had  remembered  the  commandment, 
"Thou  shalt  not  covet,"  etc.,  when  this  desire  to 


IN    TROUBLE.  221 

have  his  schoolfellow's  peaches  came  into  his 
mind,  and  had,  because  covetousuess  was  sin, 
turned  his  thoughts  instantly  away,  the  evil  that 
followed  could  not  have  happened. 

But  he  cherished  the  desire,  and  kept  thinking 
of  the  fruit,  and  longing  to  taste  its  delicious 
sweetness.  At  recess  it  happened  that  he  alone 
remained  in  the  school-room.  He  looked  from 
the  window,  and  saw  that  all  the  children  were 
out  of  sight.  They  had  gone  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  school-house.  Then  he  thought 
of  the  pear  and  peach,  and  opened  the  desk  in 
which  he  had  seen  them  ;  not  with  any  intention 
to  steal.  O,  no  !  He  would  have  been  fright 
ened  at  the  thought.  But  he  would  just  like  to 
look  at  them.  There  they  were,  so  beautiful 
and  tempting.  He  took  first  the  pear  and  then 
the  peach,  smelled  them,  turned  them  over  and 
over,  smelled  them  again,  and  at  last  pressed  his 
teeth  so  hard  on  the  pear  that  the  skin  gave  way 
a  little,  and  the  luscious  juice  was  tasted. 

You  see  how  he  put  himself  in  the  way  of 
temptation.  If  he  had  resisted  the  first  covet 
ous  desire,  and  turned  from  it  as  a  sin,  he  would 


222        NOT    ANYTHING    EOK    PEACE. 

have  gone  right  out  of  the  circle  of  danger. 
But  he  did  not  do  this  ;  and  so  covetousuess  led 
him  into  theft ;  for,  no  sooner  did  he  taste  the 
fruit,  than,  with  the  blind  eagerness  of  one  "who 
gives  himself  up  to  an  evil  passion,  he  thrust 
both  the  peach  and  pear  into  his  pockets,  and 
then  slunk  away  where  no  one  could  observe 
him,  to  devour  them  with  the  greediness  of  a 
hungry  animal.  This  was  not  enjoyment.  Pie 
did  not  really  get  the  fine  flavor  of  the  fruit, 
which  was  taken  in  great  mouthfuls  and  swal 
lowed  before  it  was  half  chewed,  lest  some  one 
should  discover  and  expose  him. 

He  actually  panted  from  the  exertion  of  eat 
ing,  so  rapidly  had  it  been  done.  Now  there 
fell  upon  him  a  dreadful  anxiety,  accompanied 
by  a  sense  of  shame  and  guilt.  Pie  was  afraid 
to  meet  his  schoolmates  on  the  play-ground,  lest 
they  should  read  in  his  face  the  story  of  what  he 
had  done. 

When  the  loss  of  the  fruit  was  discovered 
there  was  much  excitement  and  inquiry,  and  the 
thief  was  denounced  in  very  strong  language. 
Every  word  of  scorn,  contempt,  and  execration 


IN    TROUBLE.  223 

that  fell  from  the  boys'  lips  struck  like  a  heavy 
blow  on  Hugh's  heart.  But  no  one  accused  him, 
or  appeared  to  have  the  least  suspicion  that  he 
was  the  guilty  one. 

This  was  the  heavy  load  that  Hugh's  heart  and 
conscience  brought  home  from  school ;  and  we 
do  not  wonder  that  the  old  cheerful  life  was 
gone,  nor  that  the  evil  spirits  he  had  taken  into 
his  company  tormented  him  even  while  asleep. 

O,  how  wretched  the  boy  was,  out  in  the  gar 
den,  with  all  things  pure  and  beautiful  around 
him  !  The  very  peace  and  loveliness  of  nature 
he  felt  as  a  rebuke.  In  his  misery  he  left  the 
sweet  garden  walks,  and  shrank  into  a  corner  of 
the  tool-house,  where  he  sat  down.  A  bird  lit 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree  above  him,  and  sent  out 
a  clear,  exultant  song.  He  looked  up,  and  past 
the  bird,  through  an  opening  in  the  leaves,  he 
saw  a  small  circle  of  clear  blue  sky.  A  strange 
feeling  came  over  him.  It  seemed  as  if  God 
was  looking  down  upon  him  from  heaven.  First 
there  was  awe,  then  reverence,  and  then  a  sor 
row  for  the  evil  he  had  done,  that  made  the  hot 
tears  rain  down  over  his  face.  Clasping  his 


224       NOT     ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

hands  together,  and  lifting  his  eyes,  he  said,  "O 
Lord,  I  have  been  a  very  wicked  little  boy,  but 
I  am  so  sorry  !  I  am  in  great  trouble,  and  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

Just  then  he  heard  the  sound  of  feet  approach 
ing.  He  paused  in  his  prayer,  sitting  quite 
still.  But  the  sound  went  by.  He  did  not  con 
tinue  praying,  for  it  came  just  then  into  his  mind 
that  he  would  try  to  make  restitution  —  that  is, 
restore  to  his  schoolmate  what  he  had  taken 
from  him.  But  the  pear  and  peach  were  no 
more  —  he  had  eaten  them.  Yes,  but  he  might 
get  another  peach  and  pear,  and  secretly  put 
them  in  the  boy's  desk.  How  was  he  to  get 
them?  He  had  no  money. 

Here  a  tempting  spirit  —  they  are  always  near 
us,  trying  to  take  us  off  our  guard  —  actually 
suggested  to  Hugh  to  shake  some  pennies  from 
his  brother's  money-box.  I  am  pleased  to  say 
for  him  that  he  shuddered  at  the  thought,  and 
rejected  it.  What  did  he  do  next?  Just  what 
he  should  have  done  the  night  before.  He  went 
to  his  best  friend  on  earth,  his  mother,  and  told 
her  all. 


IN    TROUBLE.  225 

I  will  not  describe  her  pain  and  sorrow.  But 
she  was  a  wise  and  loving  mother,  and  kept  her 
arm  tightly  drawn  around  her  boy  while  he  told 
his  sad  story.  His  feet  had  stepped  aside  into 
the  paths  of  sin,  and  she  knew  that  love  would 
most  surely  turn  them  back  again  into  the  right 
way. 

"  If  I  only  had  the  money  to  buy  another  pear 
and  peach,"  said  Hugh,  sobbing,  "  I'd  make  it  up 
to  him." 

'.'  You  would  confess  all,  and  give  him  the 
fruit." 

An  expression  of  doubt  and  pain  came  into 
the  boy's  face. 

"I  don't  see  any  good  that  is  to  come  from 
confessing  it  to  him,"  he  replied.  "  God  knows 
it,  and  he  knows  too  that  I  am  very  sorry,  and 
want  to  do  right  about  it.  You  know  it,  and  I 
know  it.  I'm  sure  that's  enough.  If  all  the 
school  knew  about  it  I  couldn't  hold  my  head  up 
among  the  boys.  I  might  never  in  all  my  life 
do  a  dishonest  thing  again ;  and  yet  somebody 
would  always  be  afraid  of  me,  and  say  that  I 
was  a  thief." 

15 


226        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

Hugh's  mother  understood  all  this  as  well  as 
he  did,  and  couldn't  see  that  any  good,  but  rather 
harm,  would  come  of  any  further  open  confes 
sion  he  might  make.  So,  when  he  started  for 
school  that  day,  she  gave  him  a  folded  piece  of 
paper,  containing  some  money,  and  with  these 
words  written  on  the  inside :  — 

"  To  buy  two  peaches  and  two  pears,  from  the 
boy  who,  in  a  moment  of  temptation,  wickedly 
took  your  peach  and  pear.  He  is  very  sorry, 
and  has  confesed  to  God  and  his  mother." 

This  paper  Hugh  placed  in  his  schoolmate's 
desk  at  recess  on  that  very  day.  The  boy,  on 
finding  it,  was  so  affected  by  the  manner  in 
which  restitution  had  been  made  that  he  wrent 
up  to  the  teacher  and  handed  him  the  paper; 
and  the  teacher  read  it  aloud  to  the  whole 
school. 

A  deep  silence  followed.  The  scholars  looked 
at  one  another  with  inquiring  faces.  Hugh  felt 
as  though  every  one  must  know  him  to  be  the 
thief  of  yesterday :  but  no  one  suspected  him. 
After  a  pause,  the  teacher  said,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  with  feeling,  — 


IN    TROUBLE.  227 

"My  dear  boys,  I  am  affected  by  this  inci 
dent.  Who  the  lad  is  that  was  tempted  yester 
day,  and  so  truly  repents  to-day,  we  do  not 
know.  His  secret  is  with  God,  his  mother,  and 
himself,  and  therefore  safe.  It  is  better  for  him, 
and  for  us  also,  that  we  should  not  know  him. 
But  this  I  will  say  of  him,  that  such  repentance 
as  his  —  the  repentance  made  before  God,  and 
thus  quickly  bearing  the  fruit  of  restitution  —  is 
so  deep  as  to  be  the  pledge  of  future  integrity. 
If  I  knew  him  I  would  trust  him  without  fear. 
Take  the  lesson  of  his  painful  experience  to 
heart,  and  if,  in  a  moment  of  temptation,  you  do 
evil  to  another,  confess  it  to  God,  and  as  quickly 
as  possible  repair  the  wrong  you  have  done." 

Hugh  went  home  from  school  with  a  lighter 
heart  than  on  the  day  before ;  and  the  dreams 
that  came  to  him  in  the  night  that  followed  were 
peaceful  and  happy. 


228        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 


X. 

IN  THE  LAST  TIME. 

"AN  opportunity  like  this  doesn't  come  to  a 
man  every  day.  « Go  in  and  win ! '  that  is  my 
advice." 

The  speaker  was  past  middle  age  ;  and  he  who 
listened  had  made  the  record  of  about  an  equal 
number  of  years  in  his  book  of  life. 

"The  stock  will  double  on  its  present  quota 
tion  in  less  than  sixty  days,  Mr.  Gushing," 
pursued  the  speaker,  with  ardor.  "I've  given 
you  a  hint  of  what  is  doing,  and  a  hint  only ; 
but,  take  my  word  for  it,  the  stock  will  go  up 
like  a  balloon.  It's  down  to  twenty  now,  but  it 
will  range  between  the  thirties  and  forties  in 
a  month." 

"And  go  down  faster  than  it  went  up,  Mr. 
Slocum,"  was  answered. 

Mr.  Slocum  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
looked  arch  and  knowing. 


IN    THE    LAST    TIME.  229 

"Of  course  you'll  be  out  of  danger.  Fore 
warned,  forearmed.  It's  a  'fancy,'  I  know. 
But  there's  a  game  up,  aud  I  happen  to  have 
seen  the  winning  cards.  Take  ten  thousand 
dollars  of  this  stock  now,  and  in  thirty  days 
you  may  sell  out  at  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand. 
The  thing's  as  sure  as  death.  There's  not  a 
particle  of  risk.  The  stock's  been  at  twenty 
for  the  last  year,  and  can't  get  bel«*tf  that  figure. 
You  can  sell  at  twenty-five  or  thirty,  while  it's 
on  the  rising  numbers,  if  you  don't  care  to  wait 
longer  for  higher  chances." 

"If  I  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Gushing, 
"  there  is  no  solid  basis  for  the  anticipated 
rise." 

"  None  at  all ;  but  that's  no  concern  of 
yours  or  mine.  "We  don't  operate  for  a  rise, 
but  only  take  advantage  of  what  we  know  is 
going  to  be." 

"  After  sixty  days  the  stock  will  fall  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  then  '  stand  from  under '  is  the 
word ;  you'll  not  find  me  the  owner  of  a  share." 

"  Somebody  will  lose." 

"  Of  course." 


230       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

"And  be  swindled,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Gush 
ing. 

"You  may  call  it  by  what  name  you  please. 
But  that  isn't  the  question  now.  '  Go  in  and 
win'  is  the  word." 

"  This  winning,  I  think  you  said  just  now,  was 
as  sure  as  death  ?  " 

"  Death  sure,  Mr.  Gushing ! " 

"The  remark  has  set  me  to  thinking,  Mr. 
Slocum." 

"  Ah  !  what  of  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  last  time  coming  for  us  all." 

"  So  the  preachers  say."  Mr.  Slocum 
shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  manner  peculiar 
to  himself. 

"  When  some  of  the  '  fancies '  will  rule  at  very 
low  figures,  I  apprehend.  For  one,  I  should  not 
like  to  hold  them  largely.  I  am  afraid  their 
value  would  be  light  among  the  treasures  we 
are  commanded  to  lay  up  in  heaven." 

"You're  too  serious,  Mr.  Cashing.  I  don't 
see  what  this  going  in  on  a  rising  market  has  to 
do  with  treasures  in  heaven.  We're  not  talking 
about  dying,  but  living.  The  stock  will  move 


IN    THE    LAST    TIME.  231 

up  in  spite  of  anything  you  or  I  can  do,  and,  for 
the  life  of  me,  I  can't  see  where  the  harm  is  in 
taking  advantage  of  a  rise." 

"  All  that  I  would  gain,  somebody  else  must 
lose,"  said  Mr.  Gushing. 

"  Of  course." 

Mr.  Gushing  shook  his  head.  "It  won't  suit 
me,  friend  Slocum.  I  should  be  certain  to  hear 
of  some  duped  and  unfortunate  loser  on  the  very 
stock  I  sold  as  a  fair  article,  when  I  knew  it  to 
be  valueless  above  a  certain  rate.  If  I  were 
to  buy  at  twenty,  I  am  afraid  my  conscience 
would  never  permit  me  to  sell  at  thirty  or  forty, 
when  I  knew  the  purchaser  would  be  swindled 
out  of  half  his  money." 

"  You're  too  squeamish,  Mr.  Gushing !  I  call 
myself  an  honest  man,  and  a  Christian  man  also, 
and  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  any  harm  in 
taking  advantage  of  a  rising'  stock,  '  fancy '  or 
no  '  fancy.' " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Slocum,"  said  the  other, 
"  but  your  remark  about  being  a  Christian  man 
leads  me  to  say  that  I'm  afraid  Christianity 
hangs  very  lightly  on  the  conscience  of  a  stock 
speculator." 


232        NOT    ANYTHING    FOR    PEACE. 

"Did  you  never  speculate  in  stocks,  Mr. 
Gushing?"  The  interrogator  frowned  a  little. 
He  felt  the  remark  as  rather  personal. 

"Yes." 

"What  about  the  Christianity  of  your  con 
science,  ha?" 

"It  hung  too  lightly,  sir  —  too  lightly.  I've 
gone  in  a  few  times  on  the  rising  market,  and 
won.  But  for  every  dollar  gained,  I  made  a 
loss  in  another  direction." 

"  Ah  !     That  was  unfortunate." 

"  So  I  felt  it  to  be." 

"  You  had  one  consolation,  Mr.  Gushing." 

"What?" 

"  The  stock  speculations  saved  you." 

«  How  so  ?  " 

"  Of  course  the  misfortunes  you  speak  of  had 
no  connection  with  them ;  so  what  you  lost  by 
one  hand  you  made  up  with  the  other." 

"On  the  contrary,  Mr,  Slocum,  they  were 
intimately  connected,  and  the  losses  were  in 
consequence  of  the  speculations." 

"That's  a  little  remarkable." 

"But  no  less  true,  sir." 


IN    THE    LAST    TIME.  233 

"What  was  the  nature  of  these  losses?" 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  riches,  Mr.  Slocum — 
earthly  riches  and  heavenly  riches.  Gold  and 
good.  I  gained  gold,  but  lost  good.  In  secur 
ing  earthly  treasure,  I  laid  up  just  so  much  less 
of  treasure  in  heaven." 

"I  can't  understand  why,  Mr.  Gushing.  You 
didn't  cheat  anybody.  Speculation  is  neither 
robbing  nor  stealing.  •  The  article  is  in  market, 
and  you  buy  at  current  quotations.  When  a  rise 
takes  place,  you  sell.  It  may  happen,  and  often 
does,  that  the  price  falls,  and  then  you  lose. 
You  have  adverse  as  well  as  favorable  chances. 
The  thing  is  all  open  to  the  day." 

"Gambling,  sir,  mere  gambling,"  answered 
Mr.  Gushing.  "A  strife  to  gain  what  others 
may  lose,  not  a  system  of  reciprocal  benefits, 
which  is  the  Christian  law  of  social  life.  It  is 
founded  in  an  intense  and  eager  selfishness,  that 
will  not  wait  for  the  slow  returns  of  useful  work. 
It  helps  nobody,  and  generally  hurts  everybody 
whom  it  may  happen  to  reach.  Money,  where 
it  does  not  come  as  a  gift  or  benefaction,  should 
always  represent  a  useful  equivalent.  It  is  a 


234        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

sign  of  value.  But  when  I  would  possess  my 
neighbor's  money  without  a  fair  return,  then  am. 
I  not  covetous  ?  Do  I  not  desire  his  goods  ?  Am 
I  not  violating  a  divine  commandment?  The 
agriculturist,  the  manufacturer,  the  merchant, 
the  artisan,  and  all  who  are  engaged  in  produc 
tive  work  or  useful  employments,  serve  the 
common  good,  and  become  sharers,  by  virtue 
of  this  service,  in  the  <jommou  wealth ;  but  the 
speculator,  like  a  tumor  in  the  body,  draws  in 
the  rich  blood,  and  gives  back  nothing  but 
fever,  unhealthy  excitement,  disturbance  of  the 
useful  functions,  and  pain.  That  tumor,  sir,  is 
no  part  of  the  true  body  of  society,  and  it  will 
be  extirpated  in  the  last  time.  It  may  grow,  as 
other  evil  things  grow  here,  but  its  life  is  oppo 
site  to  heavenly  life,  and  it  will  not  be  found  in 
heaven." 

"  You  are  too  serious  altogether,"  Mr.  Slocum 
made  answer.  "  This  is  an  extreme  and  abstract 
view —  more  ethical  than  practical." 

"  Than  practical !  Why,  my  dear  sir,  the 
evil  consequences  of  what  I  am  condemning  all 
right-thinking  men  see  and  deplore.  The  causes 


IN    THE    LAST    TIME.  235 

lie,  as  I  have  intimated,  in  an  intense  and  eager 
selfishness,  that  grasps  for  gold  as  the  robber 
grasps  for  plunder.  Neither  the  speculator  nor 
the  robber  cares  for  others  ;  he  does  not  gain  by 
work,  production,  or  benefit  of  any  kind,  and 
take  his  money  as  the  reward  of  things  useful, 
but  by  the  law  of  force  or  artifice.  Is  it  not  so? 
Think ! " 

Mr.  Slocum  was  silent. 

"  There  is  a  last  time  for  us  all,  my  friend," 
said  Mr.  Gushing,  speaking  even  more  seriously 
than  before ;  "  a  last  time  that  is  sure  to  come. 
You  and  I  have  stepped  across  the  line  of 
middle  age.  I  will  be  fifty  in  a  month,  and 
you  have  already  accomplished  the  half  century. 
Five,  ten,  fifteen,  twenty  years  at  most,  and  we 
shall  be  missed  from  our  places  among  men. 
Have  you  made  your  will?" 

The  question,  coming  so  unexpectedly,  gave 
Mr.  Slocum  a  start. 

"Yes;  of  course,"  he  answered.  "I  am  too 
systematic  to  neglect  a  thing  of  so  much  impor 
tance.  Life  is  uncertain." 

"And  in  making  it,"  said  Mr.  Gushing,  "you 


236       NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

considered  well  the  nature  and  value  of  your 
property,  and  disposed  of  it  with  justice  and 
judgment.  As  no  part  of  your  earthly  posses 
sions  could  be  taken  into  the  other  life,  you 
provided  for  their  equitable  distribution." 

"I  did." 

"  As  a  wise  and  prudent  man.  And  then,  Mr. 
Slocum,  did  not  your  thought  go  beyond,  to  that 
state  of  existence  which  succeeds?  to  that  real 
world,  where  we  are  to  abide  forever?  Did  you 
not  think  of  the  'riches  divine,'  which  are 
spoken  of  in  God's  Holy  Word,  as  possessed 
by  the  righteous  there?  of  the  treasure  which 
our  Lord  enjoins  upon  us  to  lay  up  in  heaven? 
In  leaving  everything  of  the  world  behind  us  at 
death,  our  future  becomes  a  thing  of  momentous 
consideration.  The  wealth  of  this  world  is 
represented  by  gold  and  silver;  that  of  the 
spiritual  world,  into  which  we  rise  at  death, 
by  goodness  and  truth.  If  we  do  not  possess 
spiritual  riches  at  death,  if  we  have  no  good  in 
our  hearts  nor  truth  in  our  minds,  we  shall  be 
poor,  miserable,  and  wretched  in  the  other 
world. 


IN    THE    LAST     TIME.  237 

"  These  things  have  pressed  themselves  on  my 
consideration  of  late,  and  your  remark  about  the 
gain  in  this  fancy  stock  speculation  being  sure  as 
death,  sent  them  trooping  through  my  mind 
again.  But  I  have  occupied  both  you  and  my 
self  too  long.  Good  morning." 

"  So  you  decline  this  opportunity  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Slocuui,  as  his  friend  moved  away. 

"I  turn  from  it,  and  with  a  shudder  at  the 
thought  that  I  was  for  an  instant  tempted.  No, 
sir ;  there  is  a  last  time  coming,  and  it  may  not 
be  afar  off.  I  will  not  burden  my  conscience 
with  any  transaction  that  is  against  the  law  of 
heaven,  into  which  I  hope  to  rise  when  mortal 
shall  put  on  immortality.  Good  morning." 

And  the  two  men  parted  —  one  to  ponder 
more  deeply  on  the  principles  of  rectitude,  and 
the  laws  of  heavenly  life  by  which  man  must  be 
governed,  if  he  would  build  his  house  upon  a 
rock,  the  other  to  forget  warning  and  suggestion 
in  the  selfish  love  of  gain,  that  impelled  him  to 
the  use  of  any  means  not  in  contravention  of 
human  law,  by  which  gold  was  to  be  won. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Mr.  Gushing  within  a 


238        NOT    ANYTHING    FOE    PEACE. 

day  or  two?"  asked  a  business  friend,  address 
ing  Mr.  Slocum,  two  or  three  weeks  subse 
quently. 

"No.     Why  do  you  ask?     Is  he  sick?" 

"Very  sick.  The  last  I  heard  of  him,  the 
doctors  had  but  small  hope  of  his  recovery." 

"  You  shock  me  !  Mr.  Gushing !  Can  it  be 
possible  !  What  ails  him  ?  " 

"  Some  disease  of  the  heart,  I  understand." 

"  And  not  expected  to  recover  ?  " 

"No." 

Mr.  Slocum's  countenance  grew  serious.  His 
thought  recurred  to  his  last  interview  with  Mr. 
Gushing,  and  he  felt  a  slight  chill  running  along 
his  nerves.  In  drawing  so  near  to  his  friend 
mid  acquaintance,  death  seemed  to  stand  most 
unpleasantly  near  to  himself. 

All  day  the  thoughts  of  Mr.  Slocum  kept 
turning  to  the  sick  man,  and  in  the  evening  he 
called  at  his  house  to  make  inquiry  as  to  his 
condition. 

"Will  you  go  up  and  see  him?"  asked  the 
sad-faced  wife  of  Mr.  Gushing. 

Mr.   Slocum  went  up  to  the  death-chamber; 


IN    THE    LAST    TIME.  239 

for,  to  one  of  them,  that  last  time  had  indeed 
come.  A  pale,  placid  face,  and  clear,  calm  eyes 
met  him.  The  Angel  of  Dissolution  had  placed 
his  signet  there,  and  none  could  mistake  the 
sign.  Mr.  Gushing  smiled  feebly,  but  sweetly, 
as  he  took  the  hand  of  his  old  business  friend. 

"I  am  pained  to  find  you  so  ill,"  said  Mr. 
Slocum,  in  a  troubled  voice. 

The  smile  did  not  fade  from  the  sick  man's 
lips,  as  he  answered,  feebly, — 

"  The  time  has  come  sooner  than  I  expected ; 
but  I  am  not  afraid.  I  think  there  is  some 
treasure  laid  up  in  heaven.  If  the  amount  is 
not  large,  it  is  in  good  securities,  I  trust ;  no 
'  fancies,'  friend  Slocum  !  No  speculative  stocks. 
Nothing  but  what  is  truly  spiritual  and  substan 
tial  ;  that  is,  of  love  to  God  and  the  neighbor." 

He  shut  his  eyes,  the  smile  still  lingering 
about  his  mouth.  But  it  began  fading  slowly, 
and  when  it  died  away,  tranquil  peace  rested 
calmly  where  the  light  had  been.  He  was  at 
rest. 

"No  'fancies'  in  the  last  time,"  said  Mr. 
Slocum,  communing  with  his  thoughts  as  he 


240 


walked,  in  sober  mood,  homeward.  "Will  it  be 
so  in  my  hour  of  extremity  ?  Will  ttrcre  be  no 
worthless  securities  in  the  treasure  I  have  sought 
to  lay  up  in  heaven,  when  I  go,  stripped  of  earthly 
possessions,  into  the  eternal  world?  God  help 
me,  if  my  soul  were  required  to-day  !  I  thought 
him  weak  and  foolish,  when  he  would  not  go  in 
and  win,  as  I  have.  I  am  richer  to-day,  through 
the  operation,  by  over  five  thousand  dollars; 
somebody  will  be  poorer  in  the  same  amount 
before  sixty  days  ;  but  I  am  glad  Gushing  held 
back.  He  could  not  have  died  so  peaceably 
with  that  burden  on  his  mind.  '  Fancies  '  amid 
the  securities  sought  to  be  laid  up  in  heaven  ! 
I  never  thought  of  that  before.  I  must  look 
closer  to  my  investments  ;  for  what  shall  it 
profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul?" 

On  the  next  day  Mr.  Slocum  sold  out  all  his 
speculative  stocks,  and  has  not  since  sought  to 
gain  a  single  dollar  except  through  legitimate 
trade.  He  cannot  forget  Mr.  Gushing,  nor  the 
inevitable  last  time  that  conies  to  all. 


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